The Long Road Home
by Karevsanatomy
Summary: A single mother running out of money and luck Meredith returns home to a town that hates her. Will she be able to pick up the pieces of a broken past and find love again? AU. Meredith/Mark, Addison/Derek, Alex/Izzie, George/Lexie
1. Chapter 1

-1**Author's Note: The idea for this fic kept wiggling in the back of my mind until I had no choice but to start it. It isn't the happiest of tales but it is one of self discovery and finding that second chance at love. The idea came to me after reading a book. The first two chapters are quite similar, as are certain aspects of the story. However, I have taken it and made it my own. **

**Premise: A single mother with only a few dollars left to her name, Meredith Grey has no choice but to return home to a town that hates her. She knew she wouldn't receive a warm welcome, but she hadn't expected the open hostility that greets her. Mark Sloan wants only one thing in life, to be left alone with his demons. The arrival of a slip of a woman and her solemn faced daughter change all that though. Together, Meredith and Mark both must face pasts they would rather forget.**

**Pairings: Mark/Meredith, some reference to Alex/Izzie, Lexie/George, and a few others. **

Lady Luck finally abandoned Meredith Grey on a semi-deserted road in front of The Silver Screen. It was in front of the deserted drive inn theater that her ancient Pinto decided to do what everything else in her life did: abandon her.

Fighting the urge to cry, Meredith barely managed to pull to the side of the road before a large loom of black smoke started seeping from under the hood. A mechanic in Oklahoma City had warned her that the transmission was on it's last leg. She had cheerfully thanked the man, painfully paid him the seventy dollars to fix the water pump, then said a small prayer before heading south on I-35. Each mile the old vehicle had crept to Texas had been like a God send. When she had finally crossed the state line she had pulled into a touristy looking rest stop and done a little dance. She had danced too soon, because four short hours later here she was, sitting on the side of the road, fifeteen miles outside her destination, a small town by the name of Welcome, Texas that would be anything but welcoming when it's residences realized she had returned.

"Why? Why couldn't You just cut me some kind of break just this once?" She whispered to a God she wasn't sure she even believed in anymore.

"Mommy?" A tiny wisp of a girl with two long brown braids and green eyes that were almost too big for her face pops up from amongst the plastic grocery bags and laundry baskets that were crammed into the small back seat, as well as the front passenger seat. All their worldly belongings were in those bags and plastic baskets, the trunk having long ago been smashed shut.

"Yeah, baby?" Meredith rapidly blinked her eyes, wiping at the few stray tears that had slipped down her cheeks. She wouldn't let her daughter see her like this.

"What was that noise?" Nothing slipped past Samantha. At just five years of age she had seen more than her share of misery and experienced enough to last a life time. Since it was all she knew, she took it in stride, growing wise beyond her young years. Five going on fifty, that was Samantha Grey.

"Nothing baby," Meredith lied. There were days she did nothing but lie to Samantha. It was the only way to protect what was left of her child's innocence. "Just a little car trouble. Nothing to worry about."

"Are we going to die?"

Meredith winced. She wasn't sure when, or where, Samantha had picked up her fixation with death, but lately she had starting asking if they were going to die on an almost regular basis. "No sweetie. Don't be silly. Why don't you get out, stretch your legs a bit while mommy checks to see why the car made that big noise."

" 'kay." There was a small rustling noise while Samantha dug through the piled bags to find a bedraggled Raggedy Andy doll that had once belonged to her father. Once the arm of the almost tattered doll was firmly clamped between her teeth, the tiny girl climbed over a large basket full of second hand play clothes. While genetics had predetermined her to be petite like her mother, a bought of pneumonia had made the already slender child look almost malnourished. Her arms and legs were little more than sticks with pale white skin stretched over them, and there wasn't the normal healthy sheen to her almost waist length, wavy brown hair. Meredith would have loved to blame it all on the three week hospital stay, but that would have been another one of her lies.

"Don't wander very far," Meredith cautioned, climbing out of the car just in time for Samantha to land in the driver's seat, a tangle of arms and legs. Stepping back, she pasted a false smile on her face. She didn't receive one in return, but then again she hadn't expected one. How long had it been since she had seen her little girl smile? Months.

"I won't," Samantha promised, picking her way through the wild flowers that lined the ditch. No doubt she was hungry. She hadn't asked for anything, though, and wouldn't. Regular meals were a luxury, and were often little more than skimpy peanut butter sandwiches and water from a public fountain.

Meredith turned her back, sucking in air as she fought the panic that threatened to over come her. "What did I ever do to You!" She said, staring up at the great expanse of blue sky. She doesn't know why she bothers. God wasn't real. He was just some fictional fairytale for the wealthy and mentally ill. Since she was neither, talking to Him was a waste of time. She often found herself 'wasting time' when things were rock bottom though, and things were definitely rock bottom. She should have stayed in Chicago, at least there she had had a job, albeit a bad one, and a roof over head, even if it had leaked. Mr. Delphino, the manager of the seedy hotel where she had cleaned rooms, had made staying impossible though. If he had wanted her, she could have dealt with that. She would have laid there, eyes closed, thinking of anything but the disgusting man on top of her. Only he hadn't wanted her, he had wanted Samantha. A twisted bastard in every sense of the word, he had already touched the small girl several times before offering to buy her from Meredith.

Bile crept up her throat as she thought of the horror that man had put her daughter through. When he had made his offer everything in her had gone black. She had told him what he could do with his offer, threatened to have him arrested if he so much as looked at Samantha again. The bastard had laughed, told her to call, that nobody would believe her. Something in her had snapped. She had reached for the nearest object, a large lamp, and flung it at him with every bit of strength she had. It had caught him on the side of his head, shattering. She hadn't stayed around to see if he was alright. She had grabbed Samantha up, shoved their meager belongings into anything she could find that would hold stuff, and headed south. Why she had chosen south, and Welcome, she wasn't sure. There was nothing there for her, just a town with a long memory and a sister she hadn't spoken to in almost ten years.

A fresh sense of loss ate at her as she thought of her younger sister. Her sister had been the one to bring the Reverend Dennison Duquette into their lives. The younger Grey sister had met him at an ice cream social hosted by the Baptist church. Unrequited love had shown in her sixteen year old sister's eyes when she had gazed up at the tall, handsome man whose southern charm could make even the Devil grace the front pew on Sunday morning. Denny had barely seen her sister though. Almost from the start he had made his interest in Meredith clear. She had been as awed as everyone else. When he had asked her to marry him she had said yes, feeling a sense of honor that he had chosen her. Her sister had done her duty as maid of honor, then swore she would never forgive Meredith for stealing the love of her life with all the passion a sixteen year old could muster.

"Better me than you," she whispered to the sister who wasn't there. On the outside, Denny had been everything the world thought he was: a Godly man who put his love for Christ above everything else. On the inside, he had been sick, infected with an all consuming need for things to be pure. Their wedding night had been a prime example of his sickness. She had been a virgin, eager to please her new husband, certain he would school her with love and tenderness. Instead he had recited biblical verses concerning the flesh and taken her innocence without so much as a gentle word. He had reveled in her tears, was glad she wasn't the sort of woman who enjoyed her martial duty. Sexual pleasure wasn't acceptable for a minister's wife. Denny had been quite clear on that, as well as many other things.

She peered at her reflection, almost startled at what she seen. Her ivory skin was the pasty color of wet bread dough, and dark circles formed half moons under jaded green eyes. A tangle of waves that use to be the color of summer wheat but were now a dingy color some where between blonde and light brown hung over shoulders that were so thin bones peeped through the almost translucent flesh that covered them.

Meredith looked away, unable to look at the pathetic woman in the reflection. She had once been beautiful, a ready smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. Those days were long gone though. Now she was a bag of bones who had little reason to smile.

"Does this belong to you!"

Meredith jumped at the sound of the surly voice. Eyes wide she turned to find a tall, muscular man with close cropped blonde hair and eyes the same color as the sky above. At first she was taken in by the subtle beauty of his face, almost over looking the fact that he held her daughter several feet off the ground, his fist grasping the back of the light pink t shirt Samantha wore. Tears silently streamed down the child's face, leaving traces of white in the grime. Meredith gasped. "Put her down!"

"This your kid?" The stranger demanded. He still hadn't released Samantha. A determined set in his jaw told her that he wouldn't until he was good and ready to.

"Yes. Please. Let her go." Fear seeped into her flesh. This man could have the same evil nature as Mr. Delphino. He could choke the life from her, leave her body laying in the ditch, and take Samantha off to God knew where. Her fingers curled into the thin fabric of the knee length tank dress she wore. "Please."

The man stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to take her daughter without a fight he had best think again. Samantha was all she had, and while she wasn't the best mother, she wasn't so horrible of one that she would stand by as a man took off with her child. "You need to keep a better eye on her," he said gruffly, dropping Samantha gracelessly. When her bare feet hit the ground, Samantha scurried towards her mother. Thin arms wrapped around narrow legs. "Caught her messing around near the ticket booth. Lot's of construction going on in the drive inn. She could get hurt."

"I'm sorry," Meredith whispered, stroking the wisps of hair that had come loose from the two braids. She could feel Samantha's tears and snot soaking through the thin, red material of her dress. "My car…it broke down…I was…" She pressed her lips together. She didn't owe this man an explanation, and she wasn't going to give him one. He didn't care about her or Samantha. To him they were just two pests who had broken down outside his drive inn.

"There's a phone in the ticket booth. Along with the number for O'Malley's garage." The stranger said gruffly. His blue gaze was still locked on Samantha in a way that had Meredith hugging her child closer. He scowled, then trooped off in the direction he had come from.

"Jackass," Samantha mumbled, finally releasing the death grip she had on her mother's legs.

"What have I told you about saying that," Meredith scolded. Silently she couldn't help but agree with her daughter. The blonde stranger had been a jackass.

"But he was one," Samantha reasoned. Meredith sighed. There was no arguing with her daughter once she had made up her mind. The one trait she had inherited from her father. Denny's mind hadn't been easily swayed either.

"True, but that doesn't mean we should call him one." Meredith bent to dig her purse from the floor board. Before she pulled her meager amount of money from the ragged wallet she knew it wasn't enough to afford a two truck. Still, she counted out the dollar bills. Eight in total. She gulped down the lump forming in her throat. This was a temporary set back, nothing more. She was a hard worker and would find a job. She had to. "You know what, mommy's legs are really tired from sitting in the car for so long. How about we take a little walk?"

Samantha nodded slowly, dragging her feet as Meredith led her across the ditch and into the empty field next to the drive inn. There was a small grove of trees growing behind the large movie screen. She settled Samantha in the shade beneath one of the trees, out of the harsh sunlight that was already turning her pale skin a pink. Dropping down next to her child, she fished a shriveled orange from her purse. Silently she peeled it, her mouth watering at the citrus scent wavering up from it. Hungry as she was she wouldn't take even a single wedge. Samantha needed it more than she did.

"Thank you," Samantha said, her little girl voice sounding older. Meredith glanced away, staring across the expanse of over grown grass and wild flowers. On the other side of the field, almost hidden by another grove of trees was the one place she had hoped to never see again. The Temple of Grace and Redemption. Denny's grand vision. He had used the large structure of stain glass and marble as the head quarters to his ministry and a studio to broadcast his message to the world. She had heard it was now a home and school for unwed mothers. Denny was no doubt spinning in his grave over that one.

Meredith tore her gaze from the place that had not only brought about Denny's fall from grace, but her own as well. She focused, instead, on the freshly painted Silver Screen sign. Just beneath it was a smaller sign with Help Wanted in bold red letters. "Are you ready?" Samantha nodded, licking the last of the sticky orange juice from her fingers. Much as she didn't want to, Meredith was going to face the jackass again. If it was help he wanted, she was more than happy to supply it.

The strap of her sandal dug into her big toe as she picked her way through the scattered bits of lumber that were piled here and there inside the drive inn. Just in front of the larger than life movie screen was a play ground that had seen better days. It wasn't the best place to leave Samantha, but it would do. "I need you to stay here while mommy talks to that man." Samantha shook her head. "Yes." Another shake of her head. "Baby, mommy needs a job." Job. Samantha understood that. Without one of those even scrawny oranges weren't available and hey would be forced to join the line at the soup kitchen.

Smiling over her shoulder, Meredith hated the forlorn look Samantha gave her. "I won't be long," she promised. Samantha nodded before turning her back. Shoulders hunched the child plopped down on the edge of the merry-go-round. Meredith thought about telling her daughter she could come, then thought better of it. She was desperate, and if the man wasn't willing to hire her to work the theater there was always that time honored tradition of earning money on her back. The idea repulsed on her, she had only been with one man, she was running out of options though. Samantha needed food and a place to stay, both of which required money.

She saw a pair of large brown work boots and frayed faded blue jeans that encased powerful, legs. The man was perched on a step ladder, his long, slender fingers propping up a light fixture. Without the distraction of a frightened child, she was able to fully see, and grudgingly appreciate, the man before her. Lean hips, broad shoulders, and muscles that bunched under the light brown t shirt he wore.

Taking a deep breath, Meredith walked over to where the radio set. Music blared from the speakers at a level that made it impossible for anyone to hear another person. With shaking fingers, she turned it down. At the sudden loss of sound the man turned to stare at her.

"You again?"

"Me again," Meredith agreed. "I'm Meredith, by the way. And the little girl you scared was my daughter Samantha. She's five." If she had hoped to garner some sort of response she was disappointed. The man just continued to stare at her. "We drove down from Chicago. Almost straight through. Only stopped a couple times. That's why Samantha was wandering around. She just wanted to stretch her legs a bit."

"Doesn't change the fact that she was trespassing, and, now, so are you." Jackass, she was really starting to think of him as one, glowered down at her before jumping from his perch on the step ladder. She took a step back, her spine pressing into the counter behind her.

"I seen your sign," Meredith managed to stammer out. Queasiness started churning in her stomach. If he said no she wasn't sure she could go through with propositioning him. No. She could. For Samantha she could do anything. "The help wanted one," she added in case he wasn't sure of what sign she was talking about.

"So," the man snapped. He dusted his hands on the backside of his jeans. The way he filled out those jeans would make any Calvin Klein model envious.

"So, I'm here. I'm the help you wanted." She forced her mouth into a smile. He didn't return it. "Personally, I think we should start with the playground. It's a disgrace. Then, I was thinking we could paint the ticket booth. That yucky brown color doesn't really seem very inviting."

"I'm not hiring you." He turned his back to her, giving her a birds eye view of his well rounded ass when he bent down to retrieve a screw driver that was lying on the floor.

"Don't be silly. Of course you're hiring me. You need help, and I'm willing to help." Meredith pushed herself away from the counter. "You're too intelligent of a man to pass up this opportunity. I'm sure if you think about it, you'll see that I am right."

"And I'm sure that you can't do the work that I need done." He was a stubborn ass. Fine. She was use to stubborn asses. She had been married to one for almost ten years, and he had been crazy to boot. This surly man didn't scare her. Not any more. She was a mother with a hungry child and she wasn't about to give up. Meredith Grey was many things, but a quitter wasn't one of them.

"Look, sir, I know I don't look like much, but I'm a hard worker. Anything you throw at me, I'm willing to do it." Meredith pleaded. She wasn't above begging. He wasn't listening though. His back was still to her. She moved forward to see what he was doing. A telephone was gripped in his hand. Before she could say anything he was dialing a number. Please don't be the police, she silently begged.

"Hey, Harold, it's Mark Sloan out at the drive inn. Got a woman and her kid broke down out here. Think you could send someone out to get her?"

Two things struck Meredith at once. The first was the man before her was Mark Sloan. One of Edie's boys. Edie Shepherd-Sloan-Karev had been a force to be reckoned with when Meredith was younger. The only child of an oil tycoon she married, then disposed of men like some women did fashion. Three of fourteen marriages had resulted in sons, hence why she had kept her former husbands names. Edie herself had been sexy as sin, each of her husband's always topping the next in looks, so it had been no surprise when her sons had grown into Welcome's most handsome boys. The oldest boy, Derek, had been a good six years ahead of her in school, and Mark himself had been three years ahead of her. The youngest Alex had been two years behind her. Not having on in her grade hadn't stopped Meredith from doing what all young girls in Welcome, Texas did: lust after Edie's boys.

The second thing was the fact that he was calling for a tow she didn't want and couldn't pay for. She had less than ten dollars in cash and her credit cards were ancient history. "No tow truck," she whispered. They would tow the car, find out she was broke, then keep the vehicle until she could pay, which might be never.

"…send the bill to me. And Harold, see if one of Adele's rooms are open." Meredith shook her head. Adele Webber ran a refuge for battered or homeless women. She hadn't returned to Welcome to end up there. Adele had been her mother's friend. Ellis would roll in her grave if Meredith took up residency with Adele. He spoke with Harold for a few more minutes then turned to face Meredith. "Wait by your car. Harold's going to send someone out after it. They'll give you a lift into town. There's a lady there named Adele who can help you." He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a bulging wallet. He peeled several twenties from the wad, holding them out to her. "Here's a bit of cash to tide you over until you can find a job."

Meredith shook her head. She was a Grey, and Grey's didn't take charity. Try or die trying, that had been Thatcher's motto. "I don't take charity."

"Fine. Whatever." He turned his back once again. She had been dismissed. Fighting the urge to cry she made her way back to the spot where she had left Samantha. She found her sweet little girl still sitting on the edge of the merry-go-round, solemn faced as ever. "Come on baby. Let's go." She held out her hand. Samantha jumped up, her tiny fingers curling into Meredith's. Silently they walked back to the car. Once there, she let go of Samantha's hand, leaned her head against the roof of her broke down car and sobbed.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" Samantha's question had her sobbing harder. She was a failure. A complete and total failure. She didn't deserve the little girl standing next to her. She hadn't been able to protect her, and she wasn't able to feed her or provide for her. "It's okay mommy. Dying doesn't scare me."

"Stop saying that!" Meredith cried. "We're not going to die." She hadn't meant to yell, but damn it, she had nothing left inside her. No patience, no understanding. She was big, empty pit of nothing.

"Sorry," Samantha sniffed. Meredith crumbled. It wasn't Samantha's fault. None of this was. She didn't deserve the hand fate had dealt her.

"No, baby, mommy is sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." She scooped Samantha up, holding her close. Two scare crows crying on the side of the road. The tears stopped a short time later. Still holding Samantha, Meredith watched as a new, red Chevrolet Avalanche squealed out of The Silver Screen, Mark Sloan behind the wheel. She resisted the urge to flip the asshole the bird. Doing so would mean having to explain to Samantha why mommy could use her middle finger but little girl's shouldn't. A moment later the tow truck appeared. "Hi. There's been a change in plans. You don't have to tow us to town after all. I just need you to move the car over behind that grove of trees right there," she pointed to the trees Samantha and she had sat under earlier. The kid behind the wheel looked a little hesitant, but eventually complied with her wishes.

"Are we going to live here?" Samantha asked, kicking at a rock. Meredith shook her head. "They how comes the car is here?"

How to answer that question. Meredith mulled it over. "We're going to camp here for a while, but first we're going to that mean ole Mark Sloan that we're the best workers ever. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Samantha shrugged. "I guess." She quietly followed her mother back into the drive inn.

All Mark Sloan needed was a little incentive to hire her. While he hadn't been willing to give her a chance to prove her worth, she would. In his absence she would start the work he didn't think she was capable of. She would show him…well she would show him that she was capable, that is what she would show him.

The task seemed daunting, especially with her stomach growling and the heat pounding down on her. She concentrated on the ticket booth, tricking her mind into focusing on something other than hunger. Sighing, she directed Samantha over to the play ground once more. She squared her shoulders, then set about the task of scraping the faded and weathered brown paint from the booth. She had found the scraper lying next to the building, so she had to assume he wanted the peeling mess gone before he put a fresh coat of paint on. The booth wasn't almost bare when the silvery spots started dancing before her eyes. Much the way she had the hunger pains, Meredith tried to focus on something else. She couldn't though. A dizzy wave of nausea swirled around her, turning her body into a heavy limbed mass. One that crumpled to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

-1**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who left a review. They mean a great deal to me. Keep them coming. They keep me inspired to write more. **

Something wet and cold trickled across Meredith's lips, several drops of the cool liquid slipping into her mouth. The trickle became more of a flood seconds later, causing her to choke and sputter. Gasping for air, Meredith willed her eyes open. She squinted against the glaring son, only to find herself faced with a glaring man.

"Mommy?"

Her gaze swings to the small girl crouched next to her. Samantha's eyes were wide with fear. Guilt gnawed at Meredith's empty stomach. Her poor baby, already afraid they were going to die, and then to see her mother collapse. "What happened?" She gasped, blinking her eyes open and shut a few times.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" The man demanded. He looked familiar, as though she should know him. Slowly, it started coming back. Her car finally abandoning her the way everyone, and everything, in her life did. The man refusing to give her a job, then calling that tow truck to remove her car. The man…Mark Sloan! He was Mark Sloan.

"I…I guess I fainted," she answered weakly. His quirked up an eye brow as though to say 'no shit.' Meredith struggled to sit up, instantly regretting the sudden movement. She hadn't felt this nauseated since the first months of pregnancy.

"Along with trespassing," Mark snapped. He shoved the bottle of water he had been holding in his hand into her's. She gratefully took the bottle, lifting it to her lips, greedily drinking the cool water much faster than she should have. Her stomach revolted, causing her to gag. "How long has it been since you last had a decent meal?"

Meredith blinked. How long had it been? "Last night," she lied. "Had myself a nice big steak." She was going to hell. That or the Guinness Book Of World Records. World's most frequent liar.

"Sure you did," Mark snorted. He turned his back, rustling around in a nearby tool box. When he turned back around he held a partially melted chocolate bar in his fist. Her mouth instantly started watering. It had been almost a year since she had tasted the sticky caramel, peanut, and chocolate bar he held out to her. She snatched it from his fingers, grimacing at how feral that made her look. Meredith took several bites before holding the bar out to Samantha. Before her daughter could take it Mark stepped between them. "I don't think so. Much as I admire your mother bear tendencies, starving yourself so the kid can eat isn't going to help her in the long run. Unless your one of those women who is skinny but thinks she is fat so she starves herself."

"What I do is none of your business." Meredith snapped. Guiltily she shoved the rest of the chocolate bar into her mouth. Asshole. He had had no right. If she wanted to make sure Samantha's stomach was full that was his business. How she made sure Samantha had enough to eat was none of his concern either.

"You made it my business, lady, when you passed out on my property. Be glad I didn't call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing," Mark threatened. Her mouth parted, forming a small silent Oh. Surely he wouldn't. Would he? He might, she reasoned. She had trespassed. She had even altered his property without his permission. He had to see that she was only trying to prove she could be of assistance to him.

"I scraped all the paint from the ticket booth," Meredith blurted out. She stood up, a bit too quickly. She swayed a bit, then lifted her chin as she steadied herself by placing one hand against the now barren exterior of the ticket booth. "See. Now all you have to do is paint it. I helped." The words tripped off her tongue like they would a child making excuses for wrong doing.

"I noticed. I'm still not going to hire you though." Mark shot back. Scowling he strode toward his truck, returning a moment later with a brown paper bag. There was a slight rustling sound as he dug around in it. First he pulled a chocolate snack cake out, which he handed to Samantha. "There. The kid has something. You eat the rest." He tossed the bag in her direction. She doesn't catch it, letting it land at her feet. "Eat or don't eat. I don't care."

"Why won't you hire me?" Meredith demanded, bending to pick the sack up. Hunger had won out over her self righteous indignation. A quick glance inside revealed a can of orange soda, an apple, and a sandwich that smelled like Turkey and Swiss. Not her favorite combination in a sandwich, but she couldn't afford to be picky.

"You really have to ask that?"

Meredith paused, her fingers clenching around the sandwich. Her first thought was he remembered. She quickly shoved that thought away. Mark Sloan hadn't been living in Welcome when Denny died. "I wouldn't be asking if I knew, now would I."

"You're a woman," he said simply, as though that was suppose to explain everything.

"Did you just say what I think you said? You're not going to hire me because I'm a woman? Do you get how sexist that sounds? You do know I could sue you for discrimination, don't you?" She wouldn't though. She wasn't that sort of woman. She had some fraction of pride left.

"Then sue me. I'm still not going to hire you." Mark crouched next to Samantha. "Here." He took the wrapped cupcake package from the small girl, unwrapped the plastic covering, then handed it back. Samantha stared at him wide eyed, as did Meredith. He scowled, moving from the girl. "If you were smart, and clearly you're not, you would realize you're not cut out for this kind of work."

"Not cut out…that is just bull. And you know it. I did good. I scraped that booth better than any guy would have. I made sure every last bit of paint was gone. Picked it clean." Meredith bit into the sandwich with a vengeance. Flavors burst alive in her mouth. Her eyes twitched closed, a small moan escaped her lips. It was embarrassing, reacting this strongly to a mere sandwich, but she is unable to help it.

"Would you and the sandwich like to be left alone?" Mark teased gruffly. Meredith's eyes fluttered open. So he did have a sense of humor.

"What I would like is a chance to prove I can do this job." Meredith insisted. Mark shook his head. She watched his back as he moved toward a building that looked to be a snack bar/office. "I'm willing to do anything," she said softly.

"Some how, I doubt that," Mark replied. He didn't turn around. "Look, I'm sorry life has handed you a bad hand, but that isn't my problem. I tried to help. I called a tow truck. You should have gotten a ride with them." He paused just outside the door. "I'll call you a ride, see if I can't find someone to help you out. I'm not that person though."

"Stay here," Meredith ordered, handing the brown bag lunch to Samantha. The little girl eagerly took it, paying little attention to her mother. Meredith smiled sadly down at the one bright spot in her life. Tears burned her eyes as she walked the short distance to the snack bar. Her stomach twisted in knots. One man. She had been with one man. Her husband. Taking a deep, shaking breath Meredith pushed those thoughts aside.

"I said I would call you a ride." Mark said the moment she opened the door. Uncanny how he knew it was her. He glanced over his shoulder, his silvery blue eyes catching her off guard. There was a tell tale wetness there that had a million questions running through her mind.

"You're wrong," Meredith lifted her chin. Nerves almost stopped her from reaching for the hem of her dress. Self disgust churned in her stomach. Part of her wondered if Samantha wouldn't be better off in a state home, anywhere but with a mother who was willing to whore herself. Selfish desire to keep her child quickly stomped thoughts of giving Samantha up. Samantha and her, they were a team, they needed each other.

"About what?" Mark asked, his voice husky. His eyes narrowed when she closed her eyes and quickly tugged the dress over her head. Her body was too thin, the bones visible, and there was nothing attractive about the off white bra and high waist yellow underpants she wore. No matter. She had all the right parts and he was a man. Men only thought about one thing. "What are you doing?"

"Whatever it takes to feed my daughter," Meredith answered, trying hard not to cry. Briefly she wondered if he was married. It would make sense that he was. He was a handsome man, with close cropped blonde hair and blue eyes, and his body was what most women dreamed of, solid muscle. Men like him were never single. Silently she sent an apology to the unknown woman.

"Put your dress back on Meredith," Mark said softly. When she didn't move, he did. He crossed the room and picked the dress up. Gently he slid it back over her body, dressing her the way a parent would dress a child. The tears she had been holding back burst, streaming down her cheeks. He muttered a curse, then gathered her in his arms, hugging her to his solid chest.

"Hey, Mark, I got your call…" A some what familiar man with sparkling hazel eyes, military cut brown hair, and the lean build of an athlete. Meredith crinkled her brow, then recognition dawned. Alex Karev. Mark's brother. This was the ride he had called for. Great. Alex had been around during the disaster that was her marriage. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Widow Duquette. Looking for another man to marry and drive crazy?"

Shame burned Meredith's cheeks. She wanted to disprove Alex's claim. There was no point in doing so though. Alex was like the rest of welcome, thinking the worse of her and leaving no room for doubt. Or to hear the truth. "What are you talking about" she heard Mark demand.

"Did she tell you? She killed her husband."


	3. Chapter 3

-1Chapter Three

The words settled in the room like a heavy fog, making an already tense situation even more so. Meredith clasped her hands together, her fingers knitting into a tangled mass. She had known it was only a matter of time before someone brought up Denny's untimely death. She had just thought she would have more time to prepare herself, to think about the best way to handle it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mark demanded, his gruff tone drawing her from the trance like state she had lulled herself into. Her nervous green eyes darted to the tall man standing before he. His silvery eyes had turned the cold, gray of a winter sky just before a storm. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Why don't you ask the Widow Duquette," Alex shot back. Unlike Mark, his gaze was hot, almost smoldering in nature.

"Duquette? I thought you said your name was Grey." The artic eyes turned on her, freezing her in place. An ache unfolded in her stomach. She had no idea why it was so important to her for him to believe her. He wouldn't though. He would be like everyone else and cast stones without taking the time to hear the truth.

"It is Grey," she answered quietly. She had ceased being a Duquette the moment she found out Denny was stealing from the church funds. It shouldn't have come as a shock, Denny pilfering money from various projects the church had set up, yet it had. The truth had slammed into her like a ton of bricks.

"Don't believe anything she says," Alex insisted. He had moved to stand between the two of them. It was a bit odd, as though he was trying to protect Mark from her. Men like Mark didn't need protecting. They were too cold to let anything bother them.

"Judge ye not, lest ye be judged," Meredith muttered under her breath. Both men stared at her. Defiantly she stared back. She was tired of having people presume they knew all there was to know about her. "My last name really is Grey. If you want to see my driver's license, I would be more than happy to show you."

Alex seemed to circle her as he paced the small office. He looked nothing like the dimple cheeked boy she went to high school with. That boy, the one who could seduce a girl with one grin, hadn't been this hard, this cold. She didn't know the man he had become, and thus far she hadn't seen any reason for her to want to.

"I don't care what your driver's license says. You're Meredith Duquette." Alex snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest. "The widow of the Reverend Dennison Duquette." His gaze swung to Mark. "You were living in New York during the good reverend's ministry." His arms uncrossed as he resumed his circling. She wanted to ask him if the office was a playground and he the bully that got his kicks from picking on the less fortunate. "You missed some real excitement."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Mark said vaguely. He didn't seem to interested in hearing the twisted tale that had been Denny's life as a minister. A small well of hope started to trickle through her.

"No maybe about it," Alex shook his head. "Denny wasn't that bad before he got with her. A bit pompous and full of himself, but hey, most ministers are right?" Mark sighed, then gave a curt nod. There was a look of resignation on his face. Alex had decided the story needed to be told and no amount of protesting was going to shut him up. "I never attended his church, you know my feelings on _that,_" Mark nodded in earnest. If Alex and Mark's version of that was anything like her own, she could well understand his reluctance to attend a church. She hadn't darkened the doorstep of one since the day of Denny's funeral. "Had friends that did though."

"Is there a point to this Alex?" Mark demanded. There was. Meredith knew exactly what the point was going to be. "If so, would you please get to it so I can tell you that I don't give a fuck."

"You say that now…" Alex let his voice trail off when Mark shot him a hard glare. "Fine. Long story made short, Denny robbed the church blind to support her expensive life style."

Meredith gritted her teeth. She hadn't seen a dime of that money. She had been forced to make do with the pittance the church paid Denny. The money he had stolen had gone to fund his perverse sexual habits. His street corner whores had seen more of him, and his money, than she had. In many ways she was thankful. If Denny was busy elsewhere it meant he left her alone. The down side to turning a blind eye to his life style was people all thought she was the cause of it. The cold wife who had driven her husband to have illicit affair after illicit affair. The greedy wife who had urged her husband into stealing from the church. The heartless wife who hadn't cried at his funeral. She was use to being cold all those things and more. The pain never lessened though. "You don't know what you are talking about," Meredith hissed. She glad that Samantha wasn't here to hear any of this. Samantha. Her poor, broken daughter was most likely sitting on the merry go around still, waiting for her mother to come back for her. Soon, she would go for her little darling soon.

"Oh, I think I do," Alex argued. "You got your husband to do the dirty work so you could live like a queen." He looked her over. "Guess you got what was coming to you, though, didn't you?"

Shame reddened Meredith's cheeks. She wouldn't give into the urge to cry that was threatening to over whelm her. "You have no idea…"

"The whole town has an idea," Alex taunted. Mark cut him a look. He ignored it. "Does it ever bother you that your husband made people believe that if they gave him their last dollar God would bless them with more money than they could handle?" She flinched. Of course it bothered her. It wouldn't do any good to tell him that though. He was just like everyone else and had his idea of the truth. "Or, what the fact that you killed him?"

"He killed himself," she corrected, her heart pounding. She could feel sweat beading on her upper lip. Unbidden, an image of Denny's slumped body over a desk danced before her. The gun had still been clutched in his hand, half his brain splattered across the chair he sat in. She hadn't known how to react when she seen him. She had stood there, frozen, transfixed in a morbid sort of way.

"He might have pulled the trigger, but you drove him to it," Alex snapped. She took a step back, shaking her head. Her back collided with the. She flattened her palms against the chipped paint. "If you hadn't made him turn his back on his beliefs…"

"That's enough, Alex," Mark said gruffly. "We weren't there, we don't know what actually happened." Meredith almost cried with relief. Finally! Finally someone was on her side. She sagged, the tension leaving her body.

The door to the office squeaked open just enough to permit a small child through. "I thought I told you wait outside," Meredith said when she seen Samantha slink into the room. Her daughter regarded the two men wearily.

"There was this scary dog," Samantha said softly, her little legs quickly carrying her over to where her mother stood.

"Forgot that you and Denny had a kid." Alex murmured. He stared down at the little girl, looking her over. Meredith's heart pounded. He wouldn't find anything, would he? No. Samantha belonged to Denny. The only man she had ever slept with was Denny. Except, she couldn't be sure. There had been that one night…No. She wouldn't think about it. Especially not with Mark and Alex in the room. The chance of them seeing her guilt would give the truth away. A truth she wasn't even certain of, and was to ashamed to question.

Denny had gone off on another of his tirades, lecturing her on the proper role of a preachers wife. She had stood there, listening to him call her a filthy whore, all because she had worn a pretty night gown. As he yelled at her, something in her snapped, snapped so greatly that when he left for his weekly trip to Dallas she followed. She wasn't sure why she followed, she knew why he went. Knowing and seeing had been two separate things though, and seeing her husband with a woman who couldn't have been more than eighteen, if that, had broken her. She had walked into the first bar she could find and ordered her first shot of tequila. She had begged the bar tender to keep them coming.

Sometime after midnight, a dark haired man with piercing blue eyes sat next to her. He wore the same haggard look on his face that she wore. They struck up a conversation that led to them both admitting to less than satisfactory marriages. She doesn't recall how they ended up at the cheap motel, or what happened once they got there. When morning came, she had woken up alone, her head pounding. Six weeks later she found out she was pregnant.

She told herself she had been faithful, that she and the man had just gone there to sleep it off. Nothing happened. Nothing. Happened. And, if the man looked like Derek Shepherd, it was just a coincidence.

"…five," Samantha was saying. Meredith blinked. Her daughter belonged to her husband. His name was on the birth certificate. Denny was Samantha's father, not Derek Shepherd.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Meredith asked quietly. Mark nodded, handing the cordless phone over. She punched in a familiar number, sick with fear that the person she was calling would answer. When the soft voice said hello she almost hung up. She didn't though. "It's me. Do you think you could come get me?"


	4. Chapter 4

-1Chapter Four

Not much about the old Grey homestead had changed. The house was still the simple box house it had been the last time Meredith had seen it. Stark white with light blue shudders, potted rose bushes on either side of the dark blue door, grass cut so short it was burning in the hot Texas sun. Silently, Meredith took all this in. A tiny part of her wiggled with excitement, crying out home, home at last. This was no longer her home though. It hadn't been since the day her father had banished her. There had been no telling her side, once Thatcher Grey made up his mind that was that. Meredith was to blame for Denny's down fall. End of discussion. Good-bye Meredith.

She couldn't resist sneaking a peek at her sister. When she had called she hadn't expected Lexie to show up. Yet, her younger sister had. A mere fifteen minutes after they had hung up Lexie had arrived, driving a shiny red Honda Civic that still had the dealership tag in the back window. Lexie had still been dressed in pale pink scrubs. Her sister had just been admitted to nursing school the last time Meredith seen her. That had been four years ago, shortly before Samantha's first birthday.

"You can stay in your old room," Lexie said in a toneless voice. They had exchanged a total of three words during the drive from the drive inn to the Grey house. "Samantha can either stay with you or take my old room."

Meredith nodded, unbuckling her seat belt. The tow truck arrived before she could say the automatic thank you that was on her tongue. She kept quiet as Lexie directed them towards the back of the house. There was an old shop back there where their father had tinkered with cars. A history teacher by day, and a hobbyist mechanic by night, that had been Thatcher.

"Mom's car is still in the garage. You can use that until your's is fixed." Again there was nothing in Lexie's voice to give away what the younger woman was thinking. "I have an account at Harold's. You can take the car down there to fill up. The gas in it is kind of old but it should make it to the station." Keys jangled as Lexie unlocked the front door.

Samantha tugged on Meredith's hand. "I need to potty," she whispered.

"The bathroom is just down that hall. First door on the right. There's a picture of your mommy and me when we were little right next to it." Lexie answered before Meredith could point her daughter in the proper direction. There had been genuine affection in her voice when talking to the child. That was something, Meredith told herself. At least her sister wasn't holding the family grudge against an innocent child. Not that she had expected her too. Lexie, by nature, wasn't a mean person. Once Samantha had disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom, Lexie turned to face her. "You look like crap."

"Nice to see you too," Meredith said stiffly. She knew how she looked. She didn't need her beautiful sister telling her how horrible her appearance was.

"Things been that bad?" Lexie asked. Meredith snorted. They both knew the answer to that. "Sorry. Stupid question. You wouldn't have come back here, or called me, if they weren't." Finally, something in her voice. Hurt. Meredith was taken aback by it. "Honestly, Meredith, this is just like you. You never think about how things are going to effect anyone but yourself."

Anger. Pain. Shock. Meredith wasn't quite sure what to name the emotion that threatened to consume her. The old Meredith had been just that way. She hadn't thought about anyone but herself. She had known about Lexie's feelings for Denny, but she had ignored them and gone after the man herself. She had known, subconsciously, that Denny was a fraud and hadn't spoken her concerns aloud because heaven forbid the world knew how little her husband thought of her. She had known the life she led with Denny wasn't conducive to a child, but she had still kept the baby after she found out she was pregnant. She had paid for her sins in tenfold though, and, really, she wouldn't change any of them. They had shaped her into the woman she was today and she had a beautiful little girl to show for it. Perhaps she wasn't much now, but she would be.

"If you can't take care of yourself, then what makes you think you can take care of a that little girl? Don't you think she deserves better than living in a car? Don't lie and say you weren't living in that wreck, either, Meredith. I heard Samantha ask if you guys were going to still sleep in the car. My God, Meredith, what were you thinking? Oh. Wait. Yet again, you weren't." Lexie shook her head, her dark hair spilling loose from the clip that had been holding it back. Her father's daughter. Same dark hair, same blue-green eyes that could see inside a person, or at least give the pretense of doing so.

"Don't judge me," Meredith cried. She had known calling Lexie would be a mistake. "Yes, I've made mistakes, but I'm sorry not everyone can be as perfect as you!" Perfect, Lexie who had never done anything wrong.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it. And who said I was judging you? I'm not. I never have. You've just never wanted to see that." Lexie tugged her scrub top over head, leaving her in a light weight, long sleeved cream colored thermal and her scrub pants. She clutched the top in her hands, holding it before her like a shield. "And I don't know how to make you either."

Meredith doesn't know how to respond. The woman before her wasn't the bitter girl she had last seen. "I'm sorry," she said softly, uncertain what else to say. Lexie stared at her. They both know what the apology is for, and it had nothing to do with their current conversation.

"For what? Marrying the most amazing man ever?" Lexie teased, the stopped. They both knew Denny hadn't been the most amazing man ever. "Sorry. That was just all kinds of wrong."

"Eh. I'm over it," Meredith lied. She would never be over it. Until the day she died the hell Denny put her through would haunt her. Words had been his weapon, couldn't have the preacher's wife sporting bruises. She almost wish he had been physically abusive, then the wounds would heal.

"No you're not," Lexie said quietly, the eyes Meredith had thought cold moments before were brimming with tears. "Nobody gets over those sorts of things." Dark hair curtained Lexie's face as she looked down. When she looked up her cheeks were damp. "You're not the one who should apologize. I should. I should be the one begging you to forgive me for being such a brat about Denny, and for not standing up for you when Dad told you to get out. I don't know why I didn't say anything, except maybe I was still mad that you had the life I thought I wanted. I shouldn't have let Dad tell you to leave."

"It wouldn't have done any good. We both know how Dad was. Thatcher's word was law." Meredith's arms itched to wrap around her sister. It had been so long since she had held Lexie close. She missed that the most, the way they would hug one another for no reason at all.

"Still, I should have said something!" Lexie insisted. She chewed her lip, then threw her arms around Meredith, almost knocking the more slender woman to the ground. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too," Meredith choked, unable to hold back her tears any longer. She sobbed, her body shaking violently from the agony she was letting loose. It all spewed forth. Every last dirty detail of her marriage, of her drunken night in Dallas, of her perverted boss. All of it tumbled out. All of it except what had happened back at the drive inn. Shame kept her from admitting to her sister that prostitution had held more appeal than calling her.

"Don't worry, Meri, you're not alone anymore," Lexie promised, "you have me now." Meredith's face sobered up. She knew her sister meant well, but at what cost would Lexie be helping her? "I know what you're thinking, and I don't care. They can all kiss my ass. Most of them can't stand me anyway."

"Really?" It baffled Meredith how people couldn't not like her sister. Lexie was pretty, had a kind disposition, and helped others. "Why?" Lexie looked away. The why went unspoken, but Meredith knew. It was because of her. People avoided Lexie because she was Meredith's sister.

"It's okay," Lexie promised. It wasn't though. Nobody should be punished for someone else's transgressions. Meredith knew that all to well. "Besides, it isn't like I haven't given them my own reasons for them to dislike me."

"Really? What did you do?" Meredith found it hard to believe that Lexie had it in her to do anything remotely worthy of exile.

"Well, for starters, I defended you." Meredith looked at her in shock. "Don't look so surprised. You're my sister. No way in hell I was letting them bad mouth you. That's my job. I earned it. The rest of them can shut the fuck up." Lexie tossed her hair back, wincing when she seen Samantha coming down the hall. "Oops. Sorry. Auntie Lexie has a potty mouth."

"She's heard worse," Meredith murmured. Heard, seen, and experienced. A shudder, along with the familiar cloak of guilt, took control of her body.

"Still. I'll be more careful. Anyways, I defended you, and I might have broken up a marriage." Lexie rolled her eyes, tossing her scrub top from hand to hand.

"You did what?" Meredith could do little more than gap. She had been gone too long. Lexie sighed, then launched into a length tale of having an affair with one Alex Karev while he was engaged to a Rebecca Moore. Alex had been drunk, had one too many shots at his bachelor party, and Lexie, well, she had no excuse other than he was hot. Rebecca walked in on Lexie riding him like a pony, complete with cowboy hat and boots. "And she called off the wedding."

"Can't say that I blame her," Meredith tucked a lock of her limp hair behind her ear. The unknown Rebecca had no idea how lucky she was, to have been spared the embarrassment of a cheating spouse.

"I can't either. Alex blames me though. Like I made him have sex. Puh-lease. He's such an asshole. Amazing in bed, but sucks as a human being." Lexie continued to toss the top back and forth. "He's only gotten worse since Rebecca married Jeff Pope and had a baby. He just needs to move on."

Moving on wasn't easy though, Meredith wanted to say. She didn't though. Alex was an ass. He did suck as a human being. He didn't deserve her pity, yet, for whatever reason, he had it. "Lexie, could you do me a favor? I mean, other than letting Sam and I stay here." Lexie nodded. "I need you to watch Sam while I look for a job." Samantha started to whine, then stopped when her mother shot her a look. She would suffer in silence, not wanting to be left alone with an aunt she didn't remember. Meredith braced herself against the sad look her daughter sent her way. One day, she hoped, her little girl would understand. Until then, she had to be strong.


	5. Chapter 5

-1_Author's Note: Up to this point everything has been from Mark or Meredith's perspective. There are things that need to be told that can't be told from their Point of View, so the other characters are doing it. Alex needs to explain himself. Mark can't do it for him. So, without further ado, we are delving into Alex, and it does contain some very adult content. Thought we could all use some fun. And who better to give it than bad boy Alex? _

Chapter Six

Deb's Hideaway was situated on the outskirts of town. The owner, a rather loud mouthed woman who shared her name with the bar, loved to entertain people with tales of how the place use to be speak easy back in the day. Whether the place had ever been an illegal hang out was no never mind to it's patrons. They came for three reasons. One, Deb's was the only place a person could get a decent beer without having a people think they were an alcoholic because they bought a six pack. Two, it had the only pool tables in town. Last but not least, there was always some one looking to be picked up. And since Deb's had the mentality of Vegas, most people didn't worry about tales of their indiscretions reaching the ears of Welcome's good citizens. It was what made the otherwise dumpy bar a hot spot.

It had been a while since Alex Karev had ventured out to the seedy bar in the woods. In fact, the last time had been when he had taken Lexie Grey home. Since that had ended up being the worse night of his life, he didn't hold the place where it had all transpired in the highest regard. He had managed to avoid the dump since then. Tonight, though, he needed a drink. Correction, he needed enough liquor in him to forget that his brother was fucked in the head.

Meredith Grey. He still couldn't figure out why his brother would want to tangle himself up in the mess that was her life. Not so long ago Mark's own life had been a mess. Shortly after the death of his wife, he had disappeared. It had been by chance that last year their eldest brother Derek had found him Houston. Mark had been living in a run down motel that had more coach roaches than guests, drinking and drugging himself into a stupor. It had taken both of them to convince, and eventually strong arm, Mark into coming home. He had only been sober and clean for six months. He didn't need something, or some one setting, him back, which was Alex was afraid of Meredith doing. Meredith and her little girl.

"What'll it be slugger?" Deb's gruff voice had him shaking off the past, and focusing on the future. The near future, at any rate. A future that involved drinking himself into a stupor and finding the first available woman willing to go home with him.

"Vodka, straight up," he growled, grabbing a handful of the peanuts from a nearby dish. He popped several into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It wouldn't work, he reasoned. Meredith working for Mark wouldn't work. The sort of labor Mark had in mind wasn't for a woman. He relaxed slightly. Meredith wouldn't be in Mark's life for long.

"You realize that most of the bar has had their hands in those nuts, right? And that most of them don't wash their hands?" A husky voice full of laughter teased his ear. He turned his head to the right, the direction from which the voice had come. His hazel eyes collided with large brown one's. He felt as though he had seen those eyes before, but shook off the feeling when he took in the rest of the package. Messy blonde curls that tangled around shoulders left bare by a sexy red halter top. Lush lips that looked as though they were constantly on the verge of smiling, but could just as easily whisper dirty words in a man's ear. And the body, ah that body, it was made to be worshipped by a man. He would gladly do the worshipping.

"I hadn't realized that," Alex admitted, tossing the remainder of the nuts back into the bowl. What she had insinuated was disgusting, and hit too close to home. "Do you make it your job to inform people about the dirty nuts?" He winced. Could he have been any more lame?

"No. Just the people I'm thinking about kissing," she teased. She lifted her bottle of beer, rubbing the rim against her lips before taking a long swallow. Her lips curved into a slow grin as she lowered it.

"So, you're thinking about kissing me?" Logically he told himself to put a halt to this little flirtation until he figured out why this girl looked so familiar. He couldn't think logically though, not when she kept smiling at him the way she was, her eyes making promises he would hold her to.

"I could be," she answered, sliding off the barstool. The denim skirt she wore barely covered her thighs, the frayed hem hitting her just below her ass. She leaned close, her sweet perfume tantalizing his senses through the thick cloud f cigarette smoke. Her mouth lingered near his ear, her breath hot on his sensitive skin. "Or I could be thinking about more."

More. He could do more. It was the reason he had come here after all. To find a woman who was willing to give him more. He reached for his wallet and drew out a five. He laid it on the bar, then looked to the woman. She smiled, giving him a curt nod.

Leading the woman out of the bar, Alex couldn't resist feeling a little smug over his luck. He had figured on spending a good hour, getting smashed, before he found the perfect one night stand. A stranger. Willing. A stranger. Lexie Grey had taught him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. Never sleep with some one he, or the woman he loved, knew. He wished he had learned that before he lost Rebecca.

"Your place or mine?" He asked, holding open the passenger side door of his Jeep Wrangler. She smirked, then said his place. He winced, mentally kicking himself for giving her the choice. It would make things awkward in the morning, when he asked her to leave. Unless she was one of those women who knew the score. He was thinking she did, given how easily she had left the bar with him.

Alex muttered a curse under his breath as he fumbled with his keys, then let out a growl when he dropped them. Behind him he could hear the woman giggling. He was glad she found it funny. He didn't. He smirked when he finally opened the door to the small guest house behind his mother's monstrous home. Lesser men would be ashamed of living off their mother's, Alex wasn't one of them. His father, either husband number four or five, had paid for the guest house to be built. Hell, his father had paid for the whole main house to be redone. The way he looked at it, that gave him the right to live in the guest house, rent free.

"Nice place," she said, stepping around him. She dropped the little hobo style purse she had been carrying on the dark brown leather club chair. She looked over her shoulder, smiling seductively.

"It's home" he answered. He shut the door behind him before moving across the room to where she stood. His gaze roved over her tall form, his earlier assumptions of her body being confirmed. She had dangerous curves that deserved a warning. His fingers itched to explore every inch of those curves, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. "Wanna tell me your name?"

"Takes the fun out of it, don't you think?" She kicked off the red flip flops she wore, her arms reaching up to untie the strings of her halter top. "The whole…stranger…thing." The word stranger seemed to amuse her for some reason. Briefly, not for the first time, he had the odd sensation that he should know her. Before he dwelled on it anymore, she let her skimpy top fall to the floor. There had been no room for a bra under it, leaving her breasts bare before his hungry gaze.

Wasting no time, he filled the palms of his hands with the twin globes, lowering his mouth to her collar bone. Her fingers threaded through his hair, digging slightly into his scalp. Sliding his hands down her slender waist he found the button and zipper that held her skirt in place. He trailed his mouth down the flat planes of her abdomen. His mouth paused just above a butterfly tattoo. He couldn't resist tracing the delicate design with the tip of his tongue. Toying with the button of her skirt, he worked it loose, then slid down the zipper. The scanty skirt fell effortlessly to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lime green, lace panties. The bright color stood out against her tan skin, barely covering the area of her that he was most interested in.

"Looks like one of us is wearing too many clothes," she teased. Alex straightened his body, he deftly unbuttons his light blue and white striped shirt. He shrugged out of it. He threw it over his shoulder, his fingers immediately going to work on his belt buckle. Chuckling when she moved forward to help, he drew his hands back, letting her finish what he had started.

When he was finally free of the faded jeans and black boxers he had worn, Alex tugged the woman up close, her body colliding against his. She started to laugh. It fell from her lips as his mouth captured her's. She slipped her arms around his neck, her tongue tentatively darting into his mouth. He teased her back, rather shocked by how right it felt to kiss her.

Alex guided her to the bedroom, straight to the large, four poster bed that dominated the room. He gave her a gentle shove, sending her falling back against the burgundy and gold striped comforter. Her mess of curls spread across the dark fabric, her body laid out for his enjoyment, and he fully intended to enjoy. He hooked the sides of her panties with his thumbs, tugging the effortlessly down her long legs. She kicked them free when they tangled around her ankles. He reached into the top drawer of the night stand, pulled out a small foil package and quickly opened it. Her dark eyes watched as he rolled it down the length of his cock. Once sheathed, he knelt between her legs, his finger checking to be sure she was ready. She was. He bit back a groan of satisfaction as he started to slide into her tight, wet entrance. She arched her hips, taking more of him. It was all the invitation he needed. Gripping her hips, he slammed into her. She let out a small cry, her nails digging into his shoulders. She didn't ask him to slow down, though. Instead, she ground her lower body against his, begged him to go harder, faster. He was more than happy to comply, pumping in and out of her slender body, her moans of satisfaction music to his ears. Letting out a final groan himself, he collapsed on top of her.

"Wow," she breathed. "I always knew you would be good…but wow." She wiggled beneath him, a giggle escaping from her full, red lips. It was in that moment that it hit him. He knew her. Not only did he know her, she was Rebecca's little sister. His stomach knotted up. How the hell could he have not recognized her? How the hell had he not realized she was Isobel Moore?

"Shit," Alex breathed, rolling away. "Shit, shit, shit." The last time he had seen her had been on her sixteenth birthday. She had been a tall stick of a girl with hair that was half frizzy, half curly and braces on her teeth. After Rebecca broke up with him, there had been no reason to keep tabs on the starry eyed girl who had looked at him with adoration. "Shit."

"Not exactly what a girl wants to hear right after," Isobel said dryly. She sat up partially, her hair falling over her breasts. Even now, knowing who she was, he found her sexy as hell. It was wrong. It was…illegal. Shit!

"How old are you?" Alex demanded. She gave him a disgusted look. "Come on. Game's up, Isobel."

"Wasn't ever a game," she muttered, fully sitting up and covering her chest with her arms. "And what do you mean how old am I? I'm only four years younger than you. God. How old did you think I was?" She slid off the side of the bed, straightening her long, tan body when her feet hit the floor. "I'm starting to think Rebecca's right, and you're an ass."

He followed her into the living room, where she gathered her clothing. "So you're…" he did the math in his head, "twenty?" She gave him another dirty look, tugging her skirt up her legs, minus her underwear. "And what do you mean Rebecca thinks I'm an ass?"

"You really want to go there?" Isobel tied the strings of her halter top, covering her breasts. "We just had sex and you want to talk about my sister, whom you cheated on the night before your wedding?" She leaned over, grabbing up her purse. "You really are an ass." She gave him one last disgusted look before slamming out of the small house.

"I'm not an ass," he yelled out the front door, cursing when he realized he was still naked. He slammed the door shut. He was fucked, in more ways than one. Isobel would tell Rebecca, who would no doubt add it to her long list of sins that he had committed against her, and her family. He couldn't forget her family. Her father had personally held him responsible for their family having to be linked to the Pope family, since Rebecca wouldn't have turned to Jeff and gotten herself pregnant if Alex hadn't cheated on her.

"Of all the people to pick up," he muttered, pulling the used condom off his dick and tossing it into the trash. He wrinkled his brow. He might not have known that she was who she was, but she sure as hell had known who he was. It was that thought that stayed with him most of the night, not the fact that his brother had invited a black widow into his life.


	6. Chapter 6

-1_Author's Note: Up to this point everything has been from Mark or Meredith's perspective. There are things that need to be told that can't be told from their Point of View, so the other characters are doing it. Alex needs to explain himself. Mark can't do it for him. So, without further ado, we are delving into Alex, and it does contain some very adult content. Thought we could all use some fun. And who better to give it than bad boy Alex? _

Chapter Six

Deb's Hideaway was situated on the outskirts of town. The owner, a rather loud mouthed woman who shared her name with the bar, loved to entertain people with tales of how the place use to be speak easy back in the day. Whether the place had ever been an illegal hang out was no never mind to it's patrons. They came for three reasons. One, Deb's was the only place a person could get a decent beer without having a people think they were an alcoholic because they bought a six pack. Two, it had the only pool tables in town. Last but not least, there was always some one looking to be picked up. And since Deb's had the mentality of Vegas, most people didn't worry about tales of their indiscretions reaching the ears of Welcome's good citizens. It was what made the otherwise dumpy bar a hot spot.

It had been a while since Alex Karev had ventured out to the seedy bar in the woods. In fact, the last time had been when he had taken Lexie Grey home. Since that had ended up being the worse night of his life, he didn't hold the place where it had all transpired in the highest regard. He had managed to avoid the dump since then. Tonight, though, he needed a drink. Correction, he needed enough liquor in him to forget that his brother was fucked in the head.

Meredith Grey. He still couldn't figure out why his brother would want to tangle himself up in the mess that was her life. Not so long ago Mark's own life had been a mess. Shortly after the death of his wife, he had disappeared. It had been by chance that last year their eldest brother Derek had found him Houston. Mark had been living in a run down motel that had more coach roaches than guests, drinking and drugging himself into a stupor. It had taken both of them to convince, and eventually strong arm, Mark into coming home. He had only been sober and clean for six months. He didn't need something, or some one setting, him back, which was Alex was afraid of Meredith doing. Meredith and her little girl.

"What'll it be slugger?" Deb's gruff voice had him shaking off the past, and focusing on the future. The near future, at any rate. A future that involved drinking himself into a stupor and finding the first available woman willing to go home with him.

"Vodka, straight up," he growled, grabbing a handful of the peanuts from a nearby dish. He popped several into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It wouldn't work, he reasoned. Meredith working for Mark wouldn't work. The sort of labor Mark had in mind wasn't for a woman. He relaxed slightly. Meredith wouldn't be in Mark's life for long.

"You realize that most of the bar has had their hands in those nuts, right? And that most of them don't wash their hands?" A husky voice full of laughter teased his ear. He turned his head to the right, the direction from which the voice had come. His hazel eyes collided with large brown one's. He felt as though he had seen those eyes before, but shook off the feeling when he took in the rest of the package. Messy blonde curls that tangled around shoulders left bare by a sexy red halter top. Lush lips that looked as though they were constantly on the verge of smiling, but could just as easily whisper dirty words in a man's ear. And the body, ah that body, it was made to be worshipped by a man. He would gladly do the worshipping.

"I hadn't realized that," Alex admitted, tossing the remainder of the nuts back into the bowl. What she had insinuated was disgusting, and hit too close to home. "Do you make it your job to inform people about the dirty nuts?" He winced. Could he have been any more lame?

"No. Just the people I'm thinking about kissing," she teased. She lifted her bottle of beer, rubbing the rim against her lips before taking a long swallow. Her lips curved into a slow grin as she lowered it.

"So, you're thinking about kissing me?" Logically he told himself to put a halt to this little flirtation until he figured out why this girl looked so familiar. He couldn't think logically though, not when she kept smiling at him the way she was, her eyes making promises he would hold her to.

"I could be," she answered, sliding off the barstool. The denim skirt she wore barely covered her thighs, the frayed hem hitting her just below her ass. She leaned close, her sweet perfume tantalizing his senses through the thick cloud f cigarette smoke. Her mouth lingered near his ear, her breath hot on his sensitive skin. "Or I could be thinking about more."

More. He could do more. It was the reason he had come here after all. To find a woman who was willing to give him more. He reached for his wallet and drew out a five. He laid it on the bar, then looked to the woman. She smiled, giving him a curt nod.

Leading the woman out of the bar, Alex couldn't resist feeling a little smug over his luck. He had figured on spending a good hour, getting smashed, before he found the perfect one night stand. A stranger. Willing. A stranger. Lexie Grey had taught him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. Never sleep with some one he, or the woman he loved, knew. He wished he had learned that before he lost Rebecca.

"Your place or mine?" He asked, holding open the passenger side door of his Jeep Wrangler. She smirked, then said his place. He winced, mentally kicking himself for giving her the choice. It would make things awkward in the morning, when he asked her to leave. Unless she was one of those women who knew the score. He was thinking she did, given how easily she had left the bar with him.

Alex muttered a curse under his breath as he fumbled with his keys, then let out a growl when he dropped them. Behind him he could hear the woman giggling. He was glad she found it funny. He didn't. He smirked when he finally opened the door to the small guest house behind his mother's monstrous home. Lesser men would be ashamed of living off their mother's, Alex wasn't one of them. His father, either husband number four or five, had paid for the guest house to be built. Hell, his father had paid for the whole main house to be redone. The way he looked at it, that gave him the right to live in the guest house, rent free.

"Nice place," she said, stepping around him. She dropped the little hobo style purse she had been carrying on the dark brown leather club chair. She looked over her shoulder, smiling seductively.

"It's home" he answered. He shut the door behind him before moving across the room to where she stood. His gaze roved over her tall form, his earlier assumptions of her body being confirmed. She had dangerous curves that deserved a warning. His fingers itched to explore every inch of those curves, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. "Wanna tell me your name?"

"Takes the fun out of it, don't you think?" She kicked off the red flip flops she wore, her arms reaching up to untie the strings of her halter top. "The whole…stranger…thing." The word stranger seemed to amuse her for some reason. Briefly, not for the first time, he had the odd sensation that he should know her. Before he dwelled on it anymore, she let her skimpy top fall to the floor. There had been no room for a bra under it, leaving her breasts bare before his hungry gaze.

Wasting no time, he filled the palms of his hands with the twin globes, lowering his mouth to her collar bone. Her fingers threaded through his hair, digging slightly into his scalp. Sliding his hands down her slender waist he found the button and zipper that held her skirt in place. He trailed his mouth down the flat planes of her abdomen. His mouth paused just above a butterfly tattoo. He couldn't resist tracing the delicate design with the tip of his tongue. Toying with the button of her skirt, he worked it loose, then slid down the zipper. The scanty skirt fell effortlessly to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lime green, lace panties. The bright color stood out against her tan skin, barely covering the area of her that he was most interested in.

"Looks like one of us is wearing too many clothes," she teased. Alex straightened his body, he deftly unbuttons his light blue and white striped shirt. He shrugged out of it. He threw it over his shoulder, his fingers immediately going to work on his belt buckle. Chuckling when she moved forward to help, he drew his hands back, letting her finish what he had started.

When he was finally free of the faded jeans and black boxers he had worn, Alex tugged the woman up close, her body colliding against his. She started to laugh. It fell from her lips as his mouth captured her's. She slipped her arms around his neck, her tongue tentatively darting into his mouth. He teased her back, rather shocked by how right it felt to kiss her.

Alex guided her to the bedroom, straight to the large, four poster bed that dominated the room. He gave her a gentle shove, sending her falling back against the burgundy and gold striped comforter. Her mess of curls spread across the dark fabric, her body laid out for his enjoyment, and he fully intended to enjoy. He hooked the sides of her panties with his thumbs, tugging the effortlessly down her long legs. She kicked them free when they tangled around her ankles. He reached into the top drawer of the night stand, pulled out a small foil package and quickly opened it. Her dark eyes watched as he rolled it down the length of his cock. Once sheathed, he knelt between her legs, his finger checking to be sure she was ready. She was. He bit back a groan of satisfaction as he started to slide into her tight, wet entrance. She arched her hips, taking more of him. It was all the invitation he needed. Gripping her hips, he slammed into her. She let out a small cry, her nails digging into his shoulders. She didn't ask him to slow down, though. Instead, she ground her lower body against his, begged him to go harder, faster. He was more than happy to comply, pumping in and out of her slender body, her moans of satisfaction music to his ears. Letting out a final groan himself, he collapsed on top of her.

"Wow," she breathed. "I always knew you would be good…but wow." She wiggled beneath him, a giggle escaping from her full, red lips. It was in that moment that it hit him. He knew her. Not only did he know her, she was Rebecca's little sister. His stomach knotted up. How the hell could he have not recognized her? How the hell had he not realized she was Isobel Moore?

"Shit," Alex breathed, rolling away. "Shit, shit, shit." The last time he had seen her had been on her sixteenth birthday. She had been a tall stick of a girl with hair that was half frizzy, half curly and braces on her teeth. After Rebecca broke up with him, there had been no reason to keep tabs on the starry eyed girl who had looked at him with adoration. "Shit."

"Not exactly what a girl wants to hear right after," Isobel said dryly. She sat up partially, her hair falling over her breasts. Even now, knowing who she was, he found her sexy as hell. It was wrong. It was…illegal. Shit!

"How old are you?" Alex demanded. She gave him a disgusted look. "Come on. Game's up, Isobel."

"Wasn't ever a game," she muttered, fully sitting up and covering her chest with her arms. "And what do you mean how old am I? I'm only four years younger than you. God. How old did you think I was?" She slid off the side of the bed, straightening her long, tan body when her feet hit the floor. "I'm starting to think Rebecca's right, and you're an ass."

He followed her into the living room, where she gathered her clothing. "So you're…" he did the math in his head, "twenty?" She gave him another dirty look, tugging her skirt up her legs, minus her underwear. "And what do you mean Rebecca thinks I'm an ass?"

"You really want to go there?" Isobel tied the strings of her halter top, covering her breasts. "We just had sex and you want to talk about my sister, whom you cheated on the night before your wedding?" She leaned over, grabbing up her purse. "You really are an ass." She gave him one last disgusted look before slamming out of the small house.

"I'm not an ass," he yelled out the front door, cursing when he realized he was still naked. He slammed the door shut. He was fucked, in more ways than one. Isobel would tell Rebecca, who would no doubt add it to her long list of sins that he had committed against her, and her family. He couldn't forget her family. Her father had personally held him responsible for their family having to be linked to the Pope family, since Rebecca wouldn't have turned to Jeff and gotten herself pregnant if Alex hadn't cheated on her.

"Of all the people to pick up," he muttered, pulling the used condom off his dick and tossing it into the trash. He wrinkled his brow. He might not have known that she was who she was, but she sure as hell had known who he was. It was that thought that stayed with him most of the night, not the fact that his brother had invited a black widow into his life.


	7. Chapter 7

-1_Author's Note: The big question on everyone's mind at the moment is Why? Why did Izzie do what she did? Have no fear, answers are quick in coming. In a round about way. You will have to wait for the full answers from Izzie herself! _

Faint glimmers of sunlight danced across the table top, picking out the glittery undertones of the red Formica. Dust motes floated through the minuscule sunbeams, which entranced the almond shaped blue eyes of the woman sitting, slouched down, in the booth attached to the table. To a mere passerby she would have looked like a well dressed doll, with her glossy red hair smoothed back from her face by a large clip and her milk white skin complimented by an ice blue halter necked sun dress. She didn't look as though she belonged in a small Texas town, let alone a greasy diner. Yet, she had lived most her life in that town and was a daily patron of the rather run down eatery.

"What'll it be?"

Blinking her large eyes, the woman stared up at the waitress. To look at them at them people would assume they were strangers. They weren't. They knew each other well. They had almost been sisters in law. "The usual," she said in a soft voice, before resuming her entranced stare. She had no real interest in the particles that flittered through the yellow light before her.

"Addie, we both know you don't have a usual. You change your mind more than most people change their underwear," the waitress shook her head, several strands of her milk chocolate colored hair falling loose from the messy bun at the nape of her neck. "So, I repeat, what'll it be?"

Addison Montgomery Shepherd sighed, tucking her peach glossed lip between her white teeth. "I don't know, Becks, what do you suggest?" She tipped her head up, staring at Rebecca with a bored expression. "Not the lunch special either. It's Tuesday, which means meatloaf and I don't eat meatloaf."

Rebecca laughed, shaking her head. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't eat Liz's meatloaf either." It common knowledge that while Liz was a whiz in the kitchen, she couldn't make a decent meatloaf to save her life. It was either too dry or raw in the middle and no amount of ketchup on top could redeem it. "How about a salad? I think we have some grilled chicken breast back there."

"That works," Addison said, splaying her fingers on the cherry red table top. Her gaze is drawn down to the sparkling of her wedding ring. She frowned slightly. "Do you ever regret it?"

"Getting married? Or marrying the man I married?" Rebecca asked over her shoulder. She slapped the order on the small metal shelf of a window that led from the front of the diner to the kitchen. "Order up," she yelled. Dusting her hands on the backs of her jeans, she walked back toward Addison.

"Both," Addison answered. They had both married for the same reason. They had been pregnant. Rebecca's child had lived, was now a beautiful three year old with her mother's dark curls and her daddy's blue eyes, while Addison had miscarried a month after saying I do. She was never certain where she stood with Derek, whether he had grown to love her or if he had stayed out of obligation.

"No," Rebecca said simply, sliding into the booth across from Addison. "No, I don't regret my marriage or the man I married. Jeff might not be the richest or smartest guy out there but I know that he loves me and would do anything for me."

A lump formed in Addison's throat. She wished she could that certain of Derek, could know that she was loved without a shadow of doubt. "You're lucky," she said wistfully to the younger woman. She had always liked Rebecca, had gone out of her way to maintain some sort of relationship after the wedding had been called off. Addison didn't blame her. Nobody did, really. Except maybe Alex. Poor fool still wouldn't let it go. Nothing anyone said would convince him that things had turned out for the best. "You're lucky," she whispered, clasping her fingers together. She meant it. Rebecca was lucky. True, the woman lived in a two bedroom trailer with a man who worked in a factory, but she knew she was loved. Addison would trade her five bedroom, 5,500 square foot home for that certainty.

"Order up," a voice yelled from the back. Rebecca rolled her eyes, then slid out of the booth. She returned a moment later with Addison's chicken salad, as well as a plate loaded with cheese covered French fries.

"Wanna talk about it?" Rebecca asked, tilting her head back and dropping a cheesy fry into her mouth. She let out a moan of appreciation, licking several stray drops of cheddar from her lips.

Addison shook her head. No. She couldn't talk about what a sham her marriage was. It was too painful. "I heard your little sister was back," she said to change the subject.

Rebecca grimaced. "Yeah. Izzie's back." She didn't sound thrilled. Anyone who knew the sisters knew why. David Moore had made it from the start that he favored his younger daughter. Nobody could quite figure out why. Both girls were equally smart. Sure, the younger one was prettier, but it hadn't always been that way. Ole Dave just had no use for his oldest girl and he never let her forget it. "Not sure how long she is staying though." She lifted another mouthful of cheese and French fries to her lips, chewing furiously. "She got divorced, you know?"

Actually Addison hadn't known. The last she had heard Izzie was playing arm ornament for her baseball player husband, one Hank Stevens, who thought he was the next Babe Ruth. "When? Why?"

"It was finalized yesterday. As to the why, your guess is as good as mine." Rebecca shrugged. Casually she looked unaffected. Upon closer examination, her hazel eyes were full of worry and concern. "I don't think he was very nice to her, though."

_I can relate to that_, Addison thought wryly. "That's too bad. They weren't married long, were they?" Rebecca shook her head, muttering something about less than a year. "That's too bad," she repeated.

"Or not," Rebecca added. She had almost finished her plate of fries, while Addison had yet to touch her salad. "You haven't seen her Addie. She's always been kind of unsure of herself, but now…well…it's like she's this sad ghost who doesn't think she is good enough."

"What do you mean?" Addison frowned. She stared down at the salad, knowing she should make some sort of effort to eat. Grimacing, she forked some lettuce, tomato, and a bit of chicken. It tasted bland on her tongue, like the stomach acid that was churning in her belly.

"Just that. She's not herself, and I'm worried." Rebecca pushed her now empty plate away. "You know what, forget I said anything. Knowing Izzie she would be pissed if she knew I had said anything."

"True," Addison agreed. "Mark's reopening the drive inn," she blurted out. Rebecca blinked, her face a bit shocked at the sudden change in subject.

"Really? Huh. Imagine that." Rebecca leaned back, crossing her arms. "Remember when Derek and you use to have to drive Alex and me out there?" Addison nodded. She remembered. It seemed so long ago. Another lifetime. A few times Rebecca had been forced to bring Izzie as well. Only Alex had treated the younger girl as part of the group, instead of the tag along she was. Of course, back then Addison had seen Alex and Rebecca as tag a longs too. "Good times."

"Yeah, they were," Addison said softly. They had been good times. Back then she had known where she stood with Derek. She hadn't just been his smiling wife whose sole purpose was too look pretty. She had been a force to be reckoned with. How she missed that girl, the one she use to be. She wondered what had happened to her, when had she disappeared?

The bell over the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of another patron. As it turned out, it was Izzie. Rebecca was right. She looked like a ghost. There was no thought in her outfit of jean cut offs and a baby blue tank top, and her long curls were pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. "Room for one more?" Izzie asked, standing next to the table. It was Addison who answered her, and then it was only a nod of her head.

"Want something?" Rebecca asked, sliding out of the booth, and letting Izzie in. The younger woman shook her head, her chin tucked against her chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Izzie answered. Addison knew that lie all to well. It was one she was quite familiar with. She told it on a daily basis, mostly to herself. "In fact, I'm better than fine. I'm fantastic. A free bird."

"Right," Rebecca said dryly. "It's okay. I'll let it go for now. Be forewarned though, eventually you are going to have to tell me." She wrinkled her brow when the door jingled again. The wrinkle turned to a full blown scowl when Mark, followed by Alex, walked in. Only Addison noticed the way the blood drained from Izzie's face, the way her fingers trembled. Silently, she repeated what Rebecca had said aloud. She would let it go for now, but eventually she would find out why her brothers in law presences had spooked Izzie so badly.


	8. Chapter 8

-1 A bead of sweat started to form on Alex's upper lip. Visions of his lunch break, spent talking some sense into his brother and enjoying a burger, were starting to crash and burn. He had known Addison would be here, she had asked that he, and Mark, meet her. She had sounded so anxious he had agreed, as had Mark. What he hadn't been expecting was Rebecca. Sure, she worked there, but mostly the evening shift so she could avoid putting her daughter in day care. And he certainly hadn't been expecting Rebecca's sister, Isobel. Or that all three women would be sitting at the same booth.

Adrenaline gushed through his veins, accelerating his heart rate and forcing his breath to come in labored pants. His sister in law, whom he was supposed to meet for lunch, was sitting with his ex-fiancée and her sister, whom he had fucked the night before. God, it couldn't get much worse. It could, he realized a second later when the bell above the door jingled and in walked Meredith Grey, followed by her little girl and sister, Lexie, another woman he had fucked.

"You alright there, Alex?" Mark asked, a passing look of concern marring his face. Panting, Alex tried to nod. He couldn't. He could barely move, all his strength going toward the fight to breath. "Not having some sort of breathing attack are you?"

"Is everything alright?" He heard Addison asking, her voice filled with confusion, concern, and fear. He felt a cool hand on his shoulder, almost positive it had to belong to his sister in law. He forced himself to look up, instantly regretting it. Instead of compassion filled eyes the color of a summer sky, he met the same chocolate brown eyes that had glazed with passion the night before. There was no passion in them today, just calm.

"Here. Breath into this." Isobel thrust a small brown paper bag into his hands. Alex fumbled with it, unsure what to do. He heard her sigh, and then she did the work for him, adjusting the bag into just the right position for him to breath into. "Try to slow your breathing," she said, her voice soothing, almost maternal. He tried, his mind wouldn't cooperate; he was unable to move past the fact that three women he had seen naked were in the same room. Two had been sitting with his sister in law. Had Isobel been telling Addison and Rebecca? "You need to try and breath. Come on, I'll do it with you. Inhale, now exhale. Slow…slower. There ya go." He repeated the process several times, Isobel talking him through them as well.

"Jesus, Alex, what the hell is wrong with you?" Mark barked, clapping him on the back. "Don't do shit like that. Scared the fuck out of me." Behind them Meredith cleared her throat, muttered something about little ears. "Sorry. Scared the heck out of me."

"What are you? A nurse?" Alex gasped, still clutching the paper bag. To his surprise Isobel nodded. Shit. Another nurse. Lexie was a nurse. Hell, his sometimes fuck buddy Olivia was a nurse. And at one time Rebecca had wanted to be a nurse. Nurses were his destiny, or fetish depending on how a person looked at it.

"You're a nurse?" Lexie asked, which had Isobel launching into a rambling explanation of how she had an associates in nursing, but hadn't gotten her bachelors because her husband was drafted by the Rangers. Husband? Oh hell.

"You're married?" Alex felt another attack coming on. Fuck. It had been years since his asthma had acted up. It was asthma, he refused to believe that he had had an anxiety attack. Cops didn't have anxiety attacks, not even small town ones.

"Divorced," Isobel corrected. "As of yesterday, I'm officially divorced." She sounded so lost, so unsure of her new status that he felt his anger toward her diminishing. He had never been married, had screwed that up before it ever happened, but he imagined that if he had been and it had ended in divorce he would have felt lost. "I'm fine about it, though. Really." She directed the last statement to Rebecca, who didn't' look convinced. Isobel tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then leaned close, two of her slender fingers pressing against the pulse point on his neck. "And, for the record, I'm twenty-two, not twenty. I'm only two years younger you. Then again, math never was your best subject."

It hadn't been. He had down right sucked at math. It rankled that she would remember that. It also rankled that he had been wrong about her age. "So you weren't served illegal liquor," he quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood between him. She smiled weakly, shaking her head. He could feel the eyes of the other people in the café on them. "I ran into Isobel last night at Deb's. Thought she was under aged." The explanation seemed to appease everyone; except Isobel, for some reason it angered and hurt her.

"Wish you had kept her from going home with that asshole," Rebecca snapped. The glare she sent in his direction was one he was accustomed to. It was all she seemed to do since their relationship ended, glare and tell him how much she hated him. To bad he couldn't make the feeling be mutual. He had tried to stop caring about her, had told himself he wouldn't have cheated on her if he had really wanted to marry her. Nothing worked. He still felt as strongly about her as he ever had.

"Becca, don't," Isobel warned, refusing to look at him. She shifted around, drawing his attention to her long, tanned legs. Those same legs had wrapped around his waist so perfectly last night. Hell, she had felt perfect.

"What? If you had to have a one night stand you could have at least gone home with someone who wasn't so rough." Rebecca insisted. Shame turned Isobel's cheeks the same red as her sister's t shirt. Alex peered closer at her legs, her thighs to be exact. Sure enough, there were small bruises the exact shape of his fingers imprinted there. He winced, wanting to apologize. He couldn't though, not with out admitting that he had fucked Rebecca's sister.

"Just stop," Isobel cried, after Rebecca had started lecturing on what a bad decision it had been for her to go off with some man she didn't now. "First of all, I knew the guy. I'm not stupid, Becca. Second of all, maybe I like rough sex, ever think of that?"

Rebecca stared at her sister, then burst into laughter. "Right. You're practically a virgin."

"I was married for six months, the virgin thing went out the window on my wedding night," Isobel snapped. She shoved passed Rebecca, heading toward the door, but not before Alex caught site of the tear running down her cheeks. Rebecca had needlessly humiliated her. Needlessly and purposefully, he realized when he seen the smug satisfaction on her face.

"Rebecca," Addison whispered. The disappointment on her face was enough to break the coldest heart. She had always liked Rebecca, Alex recalled. "That was uncalled for."

"No, that was the wake up call she needed. I swear, she doesn't use her head. I told her to stay away from that Hank Stevens, that he was no good. She didn't listen, and look where it got her. Six months in a marriage with an abusive asshole. You'd think that would have taught her. Oh no. Not Izzie. She had to go to a bar and pick up another abusive prick." Rebecca ranted. Alex wondered if she realized what she was doing, airing her sister's dirty laundry. He figured she did. The resentment Rebecca had always felt toward her younger sister was starting to come back. It had never bothered him in the past, but today it did. It bothered and pissed him off.

"She didn't pick up an abusive prick," Alex heard himself saying. He gulped when he realized the attention was now on him. "She…she just like's it rough," he spat out before rushing out of the café. He could feel the panic rising again. Shit. Had he really just done that? They would all realize he was the guy Izzie had gone home with, and he would never hear the end of it.

"Go away," Izzie sniffled, when he called her name. He found her sitting in the driver's seat of a baby blue Mustang convertible, tears still running down her face. "Seriously, just go away!"

"Sorry. Can't do that," he said casually. Heart pounding, he vaulted into the passenger seat. "Wanna go for a drive?" She sniffled, then nodded, starting the car. The moment the engine roared to life the sweet voice of Taylor Swift poured out of the speakers. He listened for a moment as the teen sang about a guy who should have said no. It could have been him in the song, he realized with a pang. There were so many times he should have said no but hadn't. Last night being one of them. "If I had known it was you…" he started then stopped when he realized how it would sound. She was hurt enough the way it was, he didn't want to add to the damage.

"Look. I get it. You wouldn't have taken me home if you had realized who I was. I think we established that last night," Izzie snapped, pounding her foot down on the accelerator. He pressed his lips together, biting back the slow down that was on the tip of his tongue. "I really don't see why it mattered, though. You went there looking for a willing woman, and I was willing. That should have been the end of it. We both wanted sex, no strings attached. And don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone it was you." The wind lifted her hair, whipping it around. Sunlight danced through it, turning it into liquid gold.

"Yeah, about that, I told them." Alex winced when she let out a shriek. "Look, she just kept going on about how you never listened to her, and how you left one abusive guy only to pick up another one. I couldn't let her think you…"

"Much better to tell her I screwed her ex? Jesus. Jesus!" Izzie hit her fist against the steering wheel, setting off the horn. The car in front of them, an ancient Buick, stepped up their speed. "Why didn't you just keep quiet? Why?"

"Because I didn't want her thinking about you like that, okay? You're not stupid. Stupid would have stayed with that guy." Alex leaned back in the seat, relaxing as she slowed their speed. "Was he really abusive?"

Izzie was quiet for a moment, then softly said "Not at first. None of it was physical. Hank was more into the whole mentally breaking a person down thing." She turned off the main road onto the dirt drive that led out to a remote part of the lake. It was a notorious teenage make out spot on Friday and Saturday nights. On a Tuesday afternoon it would vacant, except for a few geese. "Can I ask you something?" Alex nodded. "Was I okay? You know…in bed?"

At first he thought the question was a joke, and then he realized she was serious. He gulped, unsure how to answer it. He had to choose his words carefully. She had been amazing, one of the best he had ever had, but if he came out and said that she would think he was only saying it to make her feel better. "I'm not sure I remember," Alex teased. She hit the brakes, sending him crashing into the dashboard. "Fuck! That hurt."

"What do you mean, you're not sure if you remember? Was I that bad?" she looked at him with horror stamped across her face.

"No. Hell no. You were great. I'm an ass. I don't usually have to tell a woman where she ranked," Alex admitted. She visibly relaxed, turning the car off. He looked out at the lake. It was empty, just as he had known it would be. Not many people went there, most were more interested in making the trip to Lake Charles, which was an hour or so drive across the border in Louisiana. Lake Welcome wasn't large enough to support the speed boats and jet skis most people liked to play on. It was more ornamental.

"Good. I wouldn't have asked, except well the only other person I've been with was Hank and he use to call me a cold fish." It was surprising that anyone would compare the woman next to him to a cold fish. She had been so hot, so responsive. He felt himself growing hard thinking about the little moans she had made, the way her body had tightened around his, drawing him in. He shifted in his seat, praying she wouldn't see the bulge that was forming in his pants. "Know why I went home with you? I trust you. I always have. You were always nice to me, even when I was an ugly little tag alone."

"You weren't ugly," Alex said, knowing the words weren't exactly the true. She hadn't been the prettiest girl, but nor had she been the ugliest. She had just needed to grow up a bit. And God had she grown up.

"I was," she snorted. "Do you think…despite last night…we could be friends? I don't have many of those left around here." She turned her large dark eyes on him, imploring him to say yes.

"We always were friends," Alex said. He wouldn't have classified them as that, but it seemed to make her happy. She shifted in her seat, wrapping her arms around him. Shit. She was a hugger. He forced himself to hug her back, hating the way her breasts pressed against his chest. Her barely concealed breasts. Fuck. Before he could stop himself, he lowered his mouth to her's. Instantly she responded, pressing closer, and then, finally climbing over the small arm rest that separated them. He helped tug her tank over her head, tossing it into the seat she had just vacated. His uniform top followed, the badge making a clunking noise as it hit the side of the door. Her giggle was hot in his ear when he tried to tug her shorts down. It took some manipulation but he was finally able to get the scanty denim shorts off, taking her panties with them. He let her unbutton and unzip his pants, lifting himself off the seat just enough to pull them down. "You're on birth control right?" Say yes, he silently pleaded. He might enjoy sex, but seldom carried a condom around, unless he knew he was going to be getting action, and never went bare back. He was willing to throw caution to the wind this time, though. He needed her, and he was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

He resisted the urge to let out a shout when she nodded. She braced her palms on his shoulders, her moist entrance brushed across the tip of his penis. Alex settled his hands on her hips, guiding her down. She wasn't quite as ready as he would have liked and, from the look on her face, it didn't feel as good as it had the night before. He should have taken the time to be sure she was ready. It was too late though, and she didn't seem to bothered. A sigh escaped her lips when he was fully encased in her hotness.

Izzie rocked her hips, inching him even further in. Alex returned the favor, withdrawing, then slowly sliding back in. They tried to keep the pace slow, but it didn't work. A glance at the clock told Alex he had fifteen minutes left on his break, and he couldn't afford another late infraction.

It was over too soon, the both of them semi-disappointed and rushing to get dressed. "Is this what friends do?" Izzie laughed, when they were pulling out onto the highway.

Alex chuckled. He couldn't see himself doing this with either of his brothers, any of five guys he worked with, or one of the O'Malley brothers. "Some friends," he admitted. It was true. In the past he had had female friends that he got naked with on a regular basis. "We could be those kinds of friends," he said slowly. She was quiet, almost too long, before she said okay. He couldn't explain the disappointment that coursed through him. He kept quiet the rest of the ride, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she dropped him off at the small, gray cement building that served as the police station. "I'll call you later," he promised. She nodded, smiled sweetly, and then pulled away.


	9. Chapter 9

-1The shocked horror on Rebecca's face was priceless, Mark decided as he slid into the booth across from his sister in law. He reached across the red table, grasping Addison's hands in his own. She had been Vivienne's cousin, her best friend. She was his family. And she was in pain, he could see it floating in her beautiful blue eyes, she was in soul wrenching pain. "It'll be alright, whatever it is," he assured her quietly, shoving aside the fact that his brother was apparently screwing his ex-fiancée's little sister; he would deal with that later, right now Addison was more important.

"Not this time," Addison answered, a sad smile stretching across her mouth. He ached when she smiled; it was too like Vivienne's. "He doesn't want kids, Mark. He told me so, last night, that he didn't want to have children with me."

Mark sighed. So Derek had gone down that road had he? The fool most likely hadn't explained why he didn't want children to her; he was good about that, leaving out the most important things. "I'm sure he didn't mean it as anything toward you, just in general." In that moment he hated Derek for putting him in this position. He was having to lie to a person he loved. It was just Addison Derek didn't want to have kids with, his reasoning what wasn't what she thought though. It was fear; fear that she would go through another horrible miscarriage that would take her months to physically and mentally get over. Losing that baby all those years ago had hurt his brother as much as it had hurt her.

"It doesn't matter, Mark. He doesn't want kids, and," Addison hesitated, looking down, "I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a baby that he doesn't want." Her composure was barely hanging on.

"I'm sure he will change his mind once he knows," Mark's voice trailed off when she started shaking her head. "Addison, what are you going to do?" His heart started to roar in his ears. He wouldn't let her hurt this baby.

"I'm going to leave him. I'm going to leave Derek." The walls crumbled, and she bowed forward sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her upper body as she rocked back and forth slightly. "I don't want to, but I can't stay either. I can't take it, anymore Mark. I can't take the way he looks at me, like I'm some intrusion in his life. I can't bring a child into that life. I just…can't."

Mark stared at her in shock. He felt as though the past was reliving itself. It was no longer Addison before him, but Vivienne. Beautiful Vivvy telling him she was going to leave, that she was filing for divorce because she didn't love him anymore. The baby she was carrying could have been his or it could have belonged to his best friend, Jason. She hadn't meant to fall in love with Jason, it had just happened during her visits home. She was leaving and taking Brianne with her. He had lost it, told the love of his life that she was nothing but a disgusting whore, an unfit mother and he was going to make damn sure she never seen their daughter again. His last memory of his little girl was her screaming at him to stop yelling at mommy. "Are you sure about this Addison?"

Addison nodded. "I don't have a choice. I have to do this Mark. For the sake of this baby." Her hands slowly unwound, cradling her stomach. "I have to do what is right for my child."

"Derek's child," Mark reminded her. An autopsy, performed at his request, had revealed Vivienne's baby to be his. His little boy. She had stolen not one, but two of his children in her selfish need to be with a man who had already forgotten her. He still couldn't look at Jason, couldn't stand that the son of a bitch was alive and living a wonderful life while Vivienne and Brianne were dead.

"Derek doesn't want this child, Mark. And I am not going to make him be something he doesn't want to be. Not again." Addison slid out of the booth, smoothing the skirt of her sundress. "I'm going to move into my granny's until I find a place of my own. I want you and Alex to be a part of this child's life."

He stood with her, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. "Don't do this Addison. Talk to Derek. Talk to him. You'll regret it if you don't."

"I already regret it, but it has to be done. I have to do this. Not just for me and this baby, but Derek too. I'm not going to steal anymore of his life," Addison said softly, her eyes pleading for him to understand. God, she looked so much like Vivienne, it was killing him to look at her. Change the red hair to blonde and they could have been the same woman. The situation even felt the same. "Try to understand. Please. I know it will be hard, but please try."

"I'll try," Mark said reluctantly. "Don't ask me to keep this from Derek, though. I won't lie to my brother."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Addison raised on her tip toes, pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek and walked out.


	10. Chapter 10

-1_It's none of your business,_ Lexie chanted silently as she slid into the booth, choosing to sit next to her niece. Guiltily her gaze kept darting to where Rebecca stood behind the counter. The older woman was briskly wiping down the counter, enough force behind her rag to take the Formica off. Her mouth was set in a sour line, not that Lexie could blame her.

"Did I miss where this town had become part of some daytime soap opera?" Meredith asked, crossing her arms and leaning forward, propping them against the table top.

"If you missed it, I did too," Lexie quipped. She nibbled her lower lip, wondering if she should suggest they go some place else. Rebecca barely tolerated her on a good day; she hated to think what sort of reception she would get today.

"Here." Two menus were slapped down before them. Lexie jumped, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat. Every time she was near Rebecca she felt the compulsion to apologize, to try and explain why she had gone home with Alex that night. She had been drunk and he had been hot. She didn't think that explanation would fly with Rebecca. "Do you need a minute?"

"No," Meredith said, rejecting the menu. "I'll have a cheeseburger. Mayonnaise and ketchup. No pickles, onions, or tomatoes. Just lettuce. I want the seasoned tater tots instead of fries, and a sweet tea for the drink. Munchkin here will have a grilled cheese, French fries, and Sprite."

Rebecca scribbled the order down on her pad, then looked expectantly at Lexie. Most of her usual hostility was gone. No doubt her anger toward Lexie had been replaced by rage toward Izzie. At least that was what Lexie was hoping. "I…I guess I'll have a chicken sandwich, just the chicken, bread, and some pickles. Water to drink. No fries or anything like that."

"Will have it out to you as soon as possible." Rebecca yanked up the unused menus and pivoted sharply on the ball of her foot. She stopped halfway to the counter, then turned back around. "I'm only going to say this once, and it's only because I hate the wounded puppy look you have whenever I am around. I don't blame you for what happened with Alex. You and I…we were never friends…you did not owe me anything. Alex did. He knew better, yet he still chose to have sex with you. So, stop acting like I'm about to rip your head off. I'm over it. I guess on some level, I'm even thankful. If you hadn't slept with him, I would have married him and God knows that would have been a huge mistake."

"That was…interesting," Meredith said once Rebecca was gone. Interesting was one way of looking at it. "You sure Welcome hasn't become the next Port Charles?"

"Not that I know of," Lexie said slowly. Their small Texas town was starting to resemble a fictional day time drama set. Correction, Lexie added when Addison ran past them crying, it was definitely becoming a soap opera.


	11. Chapter 11

-1Sweat trickled down Meredith's spine, pooling between the skin of her lower back and the elastic waistband of her underwear. Her slender fingers gripped a paintbrush, which she painstakingly stroked back and forth. Mark had grudgingly conceded her point on how unsafe the small playground at the base of the large movie screen was and was allowing her to 'tidy it up.' At first he had stood back while she cleared the area of small debris, and then he had quietly started to help. He had sited her not working fast enough as his reason.

" About time for lunch. I'm thinking of heading into town." She nodded, not looking up from the metal bar she was slowly transforming. In the week and a half she had worked for Mark he often made this announcement. Every so often he would ask if she wanted anything, and occasionally she would ask him to bring her back a sandwich and drink. "Wanna come?"

The paintbrush stilled. Meredith stared at her handiwork, and then looked up at Mark. She didn't know him well enough to know if he was kidding or not. He looked serious, but then he always looked serious. "I…I'm not sure," she said slowly. Her fingers gripped the paintbrush tighter.

"It isn't a difficult decision. You want to go grab lunch or not?" Annoyance tinged his voice. Meredith started to say no, to tell him that she was just fine eating the left over casserole she had brought from home; something about the way he looked at her stopped her. Slowly, she laid the brush down and stood up.

"Okay." She glanced down at the pink tank top, over all shorts, and paint splattered tennis shoes she wore. The attire was appropriate for work but not exactly what she wanted to be seen wearing about town. It would have to do.

The ten minute drive was made in silence, and she was rather surprised when he came around the truck to open her door once they had pulled into the Two Guys diner. She had expected the café, and the thought of entering the place where she had been so blatantly cut down left her palms sweaty. "Maybe here isn't a good idea," she said weakly. Mark shot her a puzzled look, then motioned for her to walk ahead of him. Gulping down the lump that had formed in her throat, she entered the small building.

She shivered under the cool scrutiny of both Joe and Walter. They hated her, without even knowing her they hated her. "Maybe I should call and eat lunch at home with Lexie."

"Nope. We're going to eat here," Mark said stubbornly. There was a challenge in his eyes, as well as a dare. He purposefully chose a booth that was well within eye shot of the kitchen.

"I don't think here is a good idea," Meredith whispered as she slid into the booth. The vinyl stuck to the back of her bare legs. Mentally she kicked herself for agreeing to come. She had known better, but the way he had looked at her had gotten to her and she had said yes in a moment of sympathetic weakness.

"Here is a very good idea. You're part of this town, Meredith. You have every right to eat here, or anywhere you chose to." Mark said firmly. He handed her one of the plastic covered menus there were propped against the napkin holder.

With shaking fingers, Meredith picked the menu up. Nothing on it had changed. It was still the same food that had been served the last time she had eaten there. Of course the last time it had been Denny sitting across from her, whispering that she looked like a slut in the black sundress she had worn. She hadn't been able to eat, he had made her too nervous.

"Do you know what you want?"

She jumped slightly at the sound of Mark's voice. She nodded, sliding the menu back into the space between the napkin holder and ketchup bottle. "Chef Salad," she mumbled, folding her hands on her lap. Salad seemed like a good choice. If Mark ordered small they could eat quickly and get out of there. A groan hovered on her lips when she heard him ordered two turkey burgers, the house salad, and baked fries in addition to her salad.

The sound of the diner's door opening and shutting had Meredith's body stiffening. Izzie walked in, wearing a pair of pink scrubs, her hair scraped back in a French braid. She wasn't alone. An ebony skinned man Meredith vaguely recognized from Lexie's senior class was with her, as well as an Asian woman Meredith knew all to well; Cristina Yang.

"I really, really don't think I should be here," Meredith pleaded, keeping her voice low. Through out most of high school Cristina and she had been friends. Until she married Denny. After that they drifted apart, Cristina moving off to attend college and Meredith settling into the hellish routine that was to become her marriage. Denny hadn't cared much for the outspoken Cristina and had forbidden any form of contact. Meredith had risked it one time, to tell Cristina they couldn't speak anymore. The other woman hadn't taken it well, ugly words were exchanged, and a giant hole had been left in Meredith's heart.

"And I think you should be." Mark stared at her, his silvery blue gaze sending a shiver down her spine. "Meredith, did you force Denny to do any of the things he did?" She shook her head. The town's people didn't see it that way. They had all been under his spell, few of them wanting to believe that Denny would ever do anything to hurt any of them. Better to blame his young wife. "Did you make him kill himself?"

Every inch of her body froze. Panic swept over her. She tried not to think about the night Denny killed himself. Closing her eyes, she could almost see every detail of his office. The neatly organized desk, the pictures of the three of them sitting on the shelves behind him, and the blood seeping from the hole behind his ear. She had never told the police about checking his pulse. It had been there; faint, but there. In a sick need to be free, she had stood there, watching as the puddle of crimson grew, inch by inch taking over his desk. It was her twisted secret, the thing that kept her up at night. She had stood by, waiting to be sure he was dead, before she called the police.

Strong hands covered her's. Her eyes flew open, blinking back the wetness that had formed. "You didn't kill him," Mark said softly. The conviction in his voice almost made her forget that she had, in a way, nailed the coffin shut.

"I didn't save him either," Meredith answered hoarsely. She wanted so badly to tell him about watching Denny die. They had become friends, in a manner of speaking, and she trusted him. He had given her a chance when nobody else would. "Have you ever done something really bad that you wish you could take back?"

Mark hesitated, then nodded. "I think we all have." He squeezed her hands. She wanted to believe him, on some level she did. People made mistakes, ones they often wanted to take back. Few made the sort of mistake that cost people their lives though. "Sometimes we just have to realize we can't take it back and forgive ourselves."

Easier said than done, Meredith thought sadly.


	12. Chapter 12

-1_Author's Note: I just noticed a review mentioning that this is like a book. Yes. It is. That was mentioned in my disclaimer. After the first couple chapters the story is different. Please read the disclaimer carefully before you start making accusations. Thanks. _

The tickle of something flittering across her nose drew Addison from a fitful sleep. Groaning, she shifted from her side onto her back, instantly regretting it when pain shot down her left side. Falling asleep on her grandmother's ancient sofa hadn't been part of her morning plans, but lethargy seemed to go hand in hand with pregnancy. She let out a moan and forced herself into a sitting position, pushing her tangled red hair off her face. Instantly her blue gaze flew to the black and white cat clock that hung on the wall next to the front door. Four o'clock. She had slept most of the day away.

"Gran," Addison called, swinging her legs over the side of the green paisley sofa. The sudden movement induced a wave of nausea. She closed her eyes, willing it to subside quickly. "Gran," she called again, when her grandmother didn't answer. A slip of white paper taped to the screen of the television caught her eye. Before she even read it, she knew what it said. Gran had gone to her crafters meeting.

Helen Montgomery had been more of a mother than a grandmother. At the age of fifty-three, she made a ten hour drive into Oklahoma to get her three year old granddaughter from a neighbor who had watched Addison after the death of her parents. No matter how hard she tried, Addison couldn't recall anything before coming to live with her grandmother. Derek had always told her that not remembering might be a good thing, especially since she had been in the same car wreck that killed her parents.

Her body jumped at the sound of someone pounding on the front door. "Coming," she shouted, not sure that she was up to dealing with company. Her grandmother's friends seemed to enjoy filling her in on all their aches and pains. She often had to remind them that she was only married to a doctor, she wasn't one herself. "I said I was coming," she snapped when another round of pounding threatened to shake the pictures from the walls. Fixing a fake smile on her face, she yanked the door open, prepared to tell whichever strong armed old lady it was that her Gran wasn't home. Instead of a gray haired grandma she found a seething Derek Shepherd. She started to slam the door in his face, only to have him catch it. "I told you, I don't want to talk to you."

"Tough. We're going to talk." Derek snapped. He pushed through the door, instantly making her the walls of her grandmother's living room close in. He wasn't an overly tall or large man who physically dominated a space, no it was his presence that always took over a room. "I had the most interesting conversation with one of Dr. Peterson's nurses." The blood started to drain from Addison's face. She had known that she would eventually have to tell Derek about the baby. She had wanted to wait though, to be sure she was even going to make it past her first trimester. "She wanted to know why I wasn't with you during your appointment. Especially since your _pregnancy_ is so high risk!"

Addison collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, her fingers lacing together. Silently, she reminded herself to breath in and out. "I felt like an idiot, making apologies for something I didn't know anything about. Care to tell me why I didn't know anything about it?"

She licked her lips. "We're separated Derek. I don't have to tell you everything that goes on in my life." It was a cop out to use the separation as a defense, but it was all she had.

"Is this why you left? Because you're pregnant?" Derek stared at her in disbelief. She let her chin fall to her chest, hoping her tangled hair hid the pain on her face. No, the baby wasn't the only reason she had left. His indifference, his coldness, toward her was why she had left. The baby had just been the deciding factor, the push she needed to do something that should have been done a long time ago. "Who does it belong to Addie?"

Shock radiated throughout her body. She couldn't believe him. He was actually accusing her of cheating. "Me. The baby belongs to me," she said coldly. If she had had any doubts about cutting Derek from her life they were gone now. She had made the right choice.

"You know what I mean," Derek snapped. His blue eyes blazed with anger and hurt. She watched as he balled up his fists. "Damn it, Addie, whose the father? Do I know him?"

"Yes," she whispered, standing up. "Yes you know him." The look of hurt that wiped the anger from his face brought tears to her eyes. She wouldn't cave, not with a child involved.

"Who is he?" Derek asked, the pleading in his voice more than she could take.

"Look in the mirror," she answered.


	13. Chapter 13

-1Rubber soles squeaking on tiled flooring echoed in the dim hall that ran before Welcome General Hospital's disgrace of a nurses station. Izzie knew, without looking up, that it would be Cristina Yang. The radiologist seldom stayed in her cubby of an office. Not that Izzie blamed her. The 'office' was really just an old supply closet some one had squeezed a desk and chair into in an attempt to meet Cristina's employment demands. The pathetic little line of chairs outside the radiology room had been another of Cristina's demands; a waiting area. In the short amount of time Izzie had worked for the small hospital she had learned they were great about keeping promises; in their own way. Cristina had gotten her office and waiting area, but they weren't what she had meant.

"Am I an awful person because I am secretly wanting there to be some sort of horrific car accident or for some moronic kid to fall out of a tree?" Cristina leaned her forearms on the cracked counter top that separated her from Izzie. Tendrils of black hair had escaped her ponytail and curled around her smooth, pale face.

"If that makes you an awful person it makes me one too," Izzie chuckled. She leaned back in the old, squeaky chair, propping her feet on the desk. "I have a total of three patients, and all three are here for the same thing. Infected bed sores because some high school C.N.A. didn't turn them enough times at the nursing home."

"At least you have something to do," Cristina reminded her. The older woman sighed, and then leaned closer. "You got a minute?" Izzie quirked an eye brow up. Did she have a minute? She looked around the empty hall, and then looked back at Cristina. "Stupid question." A sigh resounded before Cristina rounded the counter, taking the empty seat next to Izzie. Usually Tyler sat there, watching his hand held television. The lone male nurse had decided to make the rounds, checking their three patients. He would be back soon, no doubt. "I use to be friends with Meredith Grey."

It didn't come as a surprise to Izzie, this revelation Cristina made. She had vague recollections of the two girls running around in high school. They had only been ahead of Rebecca by a couple years. "I knew he was no good," Cristina went on. "People around here, they think Denny Duquette was something special but I knew better. I seen what he was doing to her. He broke her down. Mentally broke her down until she was this pathetic shell I no longer recognized. If that wasn't bad enough, he forbid her to be my friend and the silly twit listened to him. The one person in her life who didn't think he was wonderful and he cut me out of her life." Cristina let out a bitter laugh. "God, it's priceless if you think about it. He made her into this weak, pathetic creature, got rid of anyone who would open her eyes about him, and surrounded her with mindless idiots who thought he was great."

A chill swept over Izzie. Cristina could have been describing Hank. She couldn't fight the tremor that raked her body. Hank Stevens had entered her life their freshman year of college. At first she had thought it was a joke, the handsome baseball player being interested in the quiet small town girl. Slowly he won her over, telling her how beautiful she was, how he loved her innocence. Part of her wanted to believe those two things, at least were true. She couldn't say yes fast enough when he asked her to marry him. It had been after graduation, the same night he signed with the Rangers. She had thought she must have been something special for someone like him to love her enough to marry.

He changed the moment they said I do, turning into this cold stranger she no longer knew. Nothing she did was right, and there had been no pleasing him in the bedroom. She had tried to be the perfect wife, but nothing seemed to do the trick. While she tried, he tore her apart, bit by bit, until one day she couldn't take it anymore. It had been the day the tabloid rumors of him and some ball player groupie hit the stands. The bleached blonde with fake boobs was pregnant. When she asked him, he laughed. He laughed at her anger over having lies about her husband printed. They weren't lies. The woman was pregnant and the kid was his. Which meant he wanted a divorce. He wanted a divorce so he could marry the mother of his child.

Pathetic idiot that she was, Izzie had offered to have a baby, if that was what he wanted. He had laughed at her again, saying he could barely stand to look at her, had had to force himself to touch her, and there was no way in hell he was going to let any kid of his have some one like her for a mother. Hearing him say she wasn't good enough to be a mother had killed something in her. She no longer had the will to fight what he wanted. As though she was in a trance, she had let his lawyer draw up the divorce, not caring that she got nothing. She had just wanted to come home. When it was all done, she had.

"Earth to Izzie," Cristina teased. Izzie blinked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. The hollow feeling of being alone had swarmed in on her again. She hated it, hated what it meant. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Izzie said. It was all she could do not to laugh. Hank was right. She was pathetic. Only a pathetic woman would still miss a husband who treated her like crap, cheated on her, and then tossed her out like yesterday's garbage. Only a pathetic woman was so desperate to feel like she was loved she would let her sister's ex-fiancé use her for sex. She was pathetic.

"You're not fine, and stop thinking about that asshole." Cristina kicked her foot against Izzie's. "He's another Denny. Some power hungry control freak who wants everyone to love him. You deserve better." Izzie looked at her, smiling weakly. "I'm serious. You have got to stop letting that jerk off control you. Don't say you're not, because you are. Every time you doubt yourself, you're letting him win. Take whatever it is that he told you and forget about it."

"Already forgotten," Izzie lied again. Lying was something she considered herself a bit of an expert. There had always been something to lie about. Tear stained cheeks, black eyes, bruised arms; she had a lie for each of them. Clumsy, that is what Isobel Stevens had been. A clumsy, pathetic woman.

"Right," Cristina said. There was no fooling the woman next to her. Cristina seen through the best of lies. "One day you're going to actually mean that."

She hoped so. The idea of living the rest of her life missing an abusive ass left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Izzie grimaced when she felt her phone vibrating on her hip. Most likely it was Rebecca, texting her to bitch about Alex. A fresh wave of guilt seeped in. She wasn't much of a sister, sleeping with a man who had hurt her sister. It wasn't as though she had planned it though. She had gone out to Deb's to celebrate her divorce. Just a couple drinks was all she had planned. Then Alex walked in. He had looked so handsome, so sure of himself. She had instantly known what he was there for, and when he had shown interest she had shown it right back. Maybe it ahd been wrong, not telling him who she was, but she had needed to feel better about herself. And having a man she had spent most of her life with a crush on look at her with lust in his eyes had been the self esteem boost she needed.

Izzie's eyes widened when discovered the message wasn't from Rebecca, but the cause of their distension, Alex. She couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips when she read. _Dinner tonight? _

It wasn't a real date, she told herself as she text him back with a yes. It was just him feeding her before he ripped her clothes off and she had best remember that.


	14. Chapter 14

-1_Author's Note: At first I wasn't going to make an issue over the dinner Alex asked Izzie over for. It was meant to be a passing line in an update, nothing more. However, my girl Emma asked about it. Which set forth a chain of thoughts. Why not have the dinner? Why not use it to get a group of people who otherwise would not be together, together? And that is what happened! So, this update, along with the next one, is dedicated to Emma aka Lexziema aka BrightYellow. And I apologize that it isn't up to my usual caliber._

It didn't quite hit Addison that she had made a mistake in letting Alex talk her into coming over for an impromptu barbeque until after she pulled into the large circular drive before Edie's house. No sooner had she killed the engine of her sedan than Derek pulled up. Bitter tasting acid dampened her dry mouth. "Derek," she whispered around the bile threatening to spew out. He still wore the cold, disheartened look he had left her grandmother's house with. Nothing she had said had made him believe the baby she carried was his. She wanted to be angry over his accusations of unfaithfulness but didn't have the heart. Keeping the child a secret had left room for his doubt. She had created the doubt, she would have to remove it; even if it meant subjecting her child to a paternity test.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked coldly. His frigid response was expected but stung none the less. She supposed she would have to become accustomed to his behavior and learn to over look it.

"I invited her," Alex called as he rounded the stone walk way that led to the back of the large, main house. He wore a cocky grin and navy blue board shorts, a white t shirt slung over his shoulder and flip flops gripped in his left hand. "If you don't like it, big brother, Iyou/I can leave." The younger man walked over to where they stood, draping an arm loosely around Addison's shoulders. "Better yet, you can stay and explain to Ma why your wife left your selfish ass."

Addison closed her eyes, barely shaking her head from side to side, her long red ponytail swishing against her bare back. Alex's intentions, good or otherwise, would be lost on Derek. Of the three brothers, Derek was the one to stand alone. He never quite fit with his two younger, more out going siblings. He tries, Addison thought, he really does try. If he had put half the effort into their marriage he put into fitting in with his brothers they wouldn't be in the predicament they were in.

"If mother wants to know why Addison left, she will have to ask Addison, because I'm not sure I know the answer to that question myself," Derek said quietly. Pain stabbed through Addison's heart, her fists balling up at her sides. She had tried to make him understand, but every word that had come out of her mouth had ended up confusing and upsetting him more.

"She left because she couldn't take your indifference anymore," Alex shot back. While the words were true, Addison hadn't wanted someone else to point the problem out to Derek; she had wanted him to realize it on his own.

"I'm not indifferent," Derek snapped. His azure colored eyes frosted to the color of a winter sky. "What I am, is tired of everyone around me forgetting that I work over eighty hours a week."

"And whose fault is that?" Alex asked. Derek stared at him, his handsome face a frozen mask even Addison couldn't read. The two brothers stood there, neither moving a muscle until a light blue Mustang convertible pulled in next to Derek's vehicle. There was no mistaking the tall, pretty young woman driving it. The pale pink camisole and white eyelet shorts were a far cry from the ill fitting tank top and cut offs she had worn the last time Addison had seen her. In fact, everything about her seemed different. There was a light in her eyes that told a secret she wasn't ready to voice and Alex wasn't ready to hear. He would, though, one day. Addison was sure of it, because the same light shone in his eyes when he spoke of the young woman he tried to say was just a friend.

"Uh, hi," Izzie said hesitantly, her tongue darting out to lick her raspberry glossed lips. One hand flew up, the fingers twisting in her straightened blonde hair. Her dark eyes nervously shifted from each person.

"Izzie, it's good to see you." Addison broke the silence, knowing the tension was felt by their newly arrived guest. "Rebecca said you took a job at the hospital?" Mentioning Rebecca caused a moments silence before Izzie nodded and said she had, indeed, taken a job at the hospital.

"It's different," Izzie said after Derek asked her how she liked working there. "Not as busy as I'm use to." Her gaze darted to Alex, who seemed alright with just watching her and listening.

"I'm sure," Addison nodded, moving forward to loop her arm through Izzie's. She didn't know the younger woman too well. Their paths had crossed on occasion, usually when Rebecca was forced to bring Izzie on a date, but that hadn't really given them the chance to know one another. "So, other than work being different, how does it feel to be home?"

Izzie's body stiffened slightly. The question seemed to visibly bother her. "It's…weird. It's like everything is the same, but yet it isn't. I don't know if it's because things have changed or if I've changed that much."

"Maybe both?" Alex teased, lightening the heavy mood that had started to form. He came up behind them, wrapping his arms around her waist. Biting back a smile, Addison stepped aside. She was honest enough that she could admit to thinking there was no possible way for the two of them to work, given his history with her sister. She was also honest enough to admit she had been to wrong. Whatever was going on between her youngest brother in law and Izzie Moore Stevens, it seemed to be working. They seemed to get one another in a way nobody else did. Izzie brought out the old, fun loving Alex they had all missed.

"Hm. Maybe," Izzie agreed, giggling. She looked over her shoulder to where Derek still stood next to his car. He wanted to leave, Addison could feel it. The wheels in his head were concocting a good enough excuse to bolt without having to explain things to his mother. "Dr. Shepherd, have you ever thought about throwing your name into the ring at the hospital?"

Addison's steps faltered. She had questioned Derek on that more times than she cared to remember. It was a topic that had often resulted in them fighting. She hadn't understood his logic in not taking a turn at the hospital. He refused to delve into his why, choosing instead to say it was his choice and he wasn't going to waste his time. It was the waste of time that confused Addison. She failed to see how helping anyone was a waste of time.

"No. Dr. Peterson and I have different outlooks on how things should be run," Derek said. It was the most he had ever said on the subject, the clearest answer he had ever given.

"Dr. Peterson is practically a hundred years old. He's set in his ways, but that doesn't mean the rest of the hospital isn't ready for a change. I know for a fact that the board would force him into retirement if they had a valid candidate." Izzie glanced over her shoulder, strands of her golden hair sticking to Alex's bare arm. "I think ole Peterson is ready too. He keeps talking about wanting to live in Florida."

"Florida is nice," Addison said softly. Shortly after she lost the first baby Derek had taken her to the Keys. Two weeks of lying on the beach and forgetting the cold world. It had been the only time in her marriage when she had felt as though Derek actually wanted her around.

"Peterson wants out?" Derek's voice was closer this time, as was his body. Awareness coursed through Addison as her husband quickened his pace to catch up with the couple walking before them. Izzie nodded. "You're sure?"

"Positive. He said something this morning about being to old for the job." Izzie assured Derek. The small group paused as Alex reached forward to unlock the gate that blocked their entry to the faux tropical oasis that was Edie's back yard. The beauty of it all never ceased to amaze Addison. A sixteen foot waterfall had been built on the far end, with a secluded sitting area behind it that was perfect for late night trysts. It had been years since Derek had asked her to meet him in that little alcove. In the past they used to sneak back there for a quickie or just to be alone. She missed those days.

"Is Mark coming," Addison asked, needing to change the subject to something that didn't center around Derek. She wasn't at a point where she could shut off her emotions where he was concerned, and hurt that he would discuss something he had told her was none of her business with Izzie stung.

"He should be here anytime. I called him about an hour ago." Alex's face twisted into a grimace. "He asked if he could bring Meredith Grey and her daughter with him."

"I like Meredith," Izzie said quietly. Addison did sucked in her breath, waiting for Alex's usual assault on Meredith's character. She had never understood why he jumped on the anti-Meredith band wagon. She supposed it was because he could focus all his rage over losing Rebecca onto some one that wasn't himself.

"You do?" Confusion, instead of anger, flickered across Alex's feature's. The revelation that his new squeeze liked a woman he supposedly could not stand almost made Addison laugh. "Why?"

A far off look stole across Izzie's face. "She's a survivor," she said quietly. "She was married to a monster and she survived. That alone makes me admire her." She was silent for a moment, and then continued. "Plus, when I was little she use to take Lexie and me trick or treating. Her and Steven never made me feel like I was intruding or unwanted, even though you know they couldn't have been happy about taking their little sisters along."

Steven Moore. Addison hadn't thought about him in a while. He had been the star of her class; a handsome boy with baby blue eyes and dimples that could melt the coldest of hearts. Valedictorian and captain of the football team, he had had eyes for only one girl though, and that had been Meredith Grey. It was funny that she had forgotten about that fact until now. She supposed it was because Rebecca didn't like to talk about Steven. Graduation night he broke his parents no drinking rule and had a few too many; his truck hit a tree four miles from her granny's. He had lingered for a few days before the family made the decision to pull the plug.

"Did…did Rebecca and I…" Alex stopped. He was smart enough to know that bringing Rebecca up was taboo. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel unwelcome."

Izzie laughed, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Well, it wasn't you that made me feel that way. It was Becky. She's never liked me. She has this silly idea that Dad doesn't want her. When we were younger she was always screaming and crying about how he loved Steven and me more. She would make up such awful lies about Steven and if I didn't do what she wanted, well my hamster would come up dead." She shrugged, as though it was not a big deal. The Rebecca she continued to describe was not one Addison could relate to the sweet friend she knew and loved.

A glance in Alex's direction told her he was having a hard time with it as well. There was no disbelief on his face though. It was almost as though he knew Rebecca was capable of doing it; that she could drown a defenseless pet hamster to get even with her sister over some travesty only she could see. It brought about the question of why was he still obsessed with her if she was so conniving and hateful? Addison longed to ask him, but knew better. He was as close mouthed about certain things as his oldest brother was. Rebecca had always been one of those things he refused to talk about.

"How does she feel about your…relationship with Alex?" Derek asked gently. The hesitation before Izzie said fine told the truth of the matter. Rebecca was not happy. "Well, I'm sure it's difficult for her. After all you are her sister and he did sleep with another woman the night before their wedding."

Izzie snorted, and rolled her eyes. "And you think she wasn't out doing the same thing?" She clapped her hands over her mouth, horror glazing her eyes. She slowly dropped her hands to her sides and licked her lips. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that!"

"Rebecca was cheating on me?" Alex demanded. Gone was the carefree, fun loving Alex of old; his usual surliness had resurfaced. "Answer me, Izzie. Was she cheating on me?" Anger spewed forth as the question was yelled at the wide eyed woman before him.

Izzie cringed back at his raised voice, her hands automatically flying up to cover her head, while she ducked her chin down against her chest. "Iz," Alex stared at her, stunned. "Iz, please." This time the sadness and hurt in his voice broke through whatever wall Izzie had put up. She stared blankly at Alex. "I'm sorry," he whispered, she nodded, and then looked away. "I mean it. I'm sorry I yelled."

"No. I'm sorry. Old reflex," Izzie tried to wave the situation off, but none of them seemed willing to let it go. "Seriously. It is no big deal."

"You acted like you thought he was going to hit you," Addison said in horrified awe. It was all clicking together, Rebecca's cryptic remarks and snide comments about Izzie's taste in men who liked to play rough. Hank Stevens had been physically abusive.

"No." Izzie shook her head, startled. "I really didn't think he would. Honest. It was just…Hank…" She looked away. "Can we just not talk about it?" A defensive note had crept into her tone, and a flush was staining her pale cheeks. "Because, really, it wasn't a big deal."

Addison started to contradict the other woman but Alex stopped her. She blinked several times as her brother in law assured Izzie they would let it go. "Alex…"

"I said, we're going to let it go," Alex said firmly, wrapping a protective arm around Izzie's shoulders. "Besides, we're here to have fun. Not talk about fuck heads who can't play ball worth a shit."

"He really is a shitty player," Derek confirmed. "I don't see him lasting through the season if he doesn't shape up. League will turn a blind eye to a lot of things if the player is just that good, but Stevens isn't."

"You talking about baseball again Derek?" Mark drawled from behind them. Addison didn't bother to turn around to know he had kept his word and brought Meredith Grey and her daughter; she could hear the little girl chattering about the pretty pool and how did the water get up so high? Her hand slid to her stomach, a small smile on her face. Would she have a sweet voiced little girl who asked too many questions? Or would she have a serious blue eyed little boy? She really had no preference, she just wanted to be able to hold this baby, to look down at their tiny face and remember that not everything had been bad between Derek and she.

"You have to ignore my brother's supposed knowledge," Mark was continuing. "He likes to think he knows it all, when really he knows nothing." A pair of strong arms wrap around her, and a gruff cheek rubbed against her's. "If he was as smart as he claimed, he wouldn't have let the most amazing woman on earth walk away." He pressed a noisy kiss to her neck and then released her. "You all know Meredith."

It wasn't a question. He knew that they all knew the nervous looking woman standing behind him. She looked better than the first time Addison seen her. Her cheeks had filled out a bit, and her hair was starting to shine. Her clothes still fit her a tad bit too loose, but there really was no help for that, they were obviously borrowed from her sister. "Good to see you again, Meredith," Addison said, hoping she at least sounded welcoming.

"I'm Samantha," the little girl piped in, clearly not wanting to be left out in being greeted. Addison couldn't resist, she let out a genuine laugh and accepted the sticky little hand that was offered to her. The tiny fingers felt so right, as though they belonged. She smiled down at the pretty little face, amazed that such a sweet, innocent being could have come from parents like Denny Duquette and Meredith Grey.

"It's good to meet you Samantha," she said softly, letting her hold on the little fingers linger. She reluctantly let go when Samantha tugged away to give Izzie a hug. Her gaze skipped from Izzie to Alex. Her brother in law looked relaxed again, a tension free grin on his face. Next to him Mark was ribbing Derek some more about knowing it all. Irritation flittered across Derek's face, but he wasn't angry. He was use to this sort of teasing. Lastly, her gaze drifted to Meredith. She felt as though she was seeing her for the first time. She didn't look like the conniving bitch people made her out to be. To Addison she looked like another lost soul, some one who just might understand the turmoil and uncertainty her own life had become.

"Meredith," she spoke the name slowly, softly. Meredith looked at her, fear shining in her large green eyes. "It really is good to see you. I'm glad you came."


	15. Chapter 15

-1IAuthor's Note: I am so sorry that I have taken so long to update this story. I didn't intend to take this long, but my train of thought went off course. It is back though. Hope you still enjoy the story./I

Outside looking in; Meredith had spent most of high school with that cloud hanging over head. For a while people had noticed her, after all if she was special enough for Denny to notice she must be a wonderful person. Once Denny had died, and the rumors of her part in his death started, the cloud had found it's way back over her head. It had followed her out of Texas, across the United States, and back to Texas again. She couldn't shake it, it was like that cloud was forever nestled above her. Occasionally, like tonight, it seemed to thin out, giving her a glimpse at what her life could be like; if she wasn't Meredith Grey.

"I wanted a cat, but my Aunt Lexie doesn't like cats cause they make her eyes cry and her nose all yucky." Samantha's chattering drew Meredith from her morose thoughts. Her eyes widen in horror when she realized the person Samantha was conversing with was none other than Derek Shepherd; a man who could quite possibly be her biological father. Fear inspired sweat coated her palms as she walked toward where the smiling handsome man sat, listening intently to the child like ramblings of a bright eyed little girl. Her little Sam had grown so much since moving in with her aunt. The little girl had never talked or smiled as much as she did now.

"Sam, why don't you go see if Izzie needs help," Meredith said, a forced smile on her face. Samantha's face lit up and she raced off without giving the man she had been talking to a second thought. "I'm sorry. She usually doesn't talk so much."

"It's fine." Derek said, smiling faintly. "You look different. More mature, I guess."

Fear pulsed through Meredith's body. "I had to grow up." Growing up was one way of looking at it. She had been forced to realize that people she thought cared about her hated her when presented with the first hint of tragedy. "Derek, I…" She stopped. How did one ask the questions she needed to ask him? Especially when his wife, who was so very kind, was just a few feet away.

"You passed out," Derek said quietly. "You passed out before either of us could do something we regretted." He glanced in Addison's direction. The beautiful red head was bent down, talking to Samantha about cats. It was while Meredith smiled indulgently in her daughter's direction that Derek's words took root.

"Wait. You mean nothing happened between us?" Meredith asked in a whisper. Derek shook his head. Her stomach bobbed up and down. Part of her was relieved to know she had been faithful to her husband; yet another part of her hated that Denny's blood flowed through Samantha's veins.

"You thought something did? All this time?" Derek asked. Meredith nodded. "Oh, Mere, I am so sorry. If I had known you thought that, I would have corrected you long ago. I just assumed you knew."

"It's fine." Meredith said weakly, collapsing into a nearby chair of teak. "Really. I'm fine. Relieved." She let her fingers pluck at the hem of her tank top, her green eyes blurring slightly. Even if it had meant she was an adulterous whore, she had wanted her sweet little girl to belong to anyone but the monster she had been married to. "I…I thought she was your's, you know? I kind of wanted her to be. That way she wouldn't have Ihis/I blood in her veins." The burst of unexpected confession startled them both.

"Blood doesn't make a person good or bad." Derek glanced out at the pool, his handsome face so sullen. "Did you know that Denny's mother was my aunt?" Meredith shook her head, her eyes wide. She hadn't known that. She wondered if Denny had known that. He couldn't have, she reasoned, because if he had he would have used the connection. "Well, she was. Couldn't have met a nicer lady. She died when he was little, you know?" Now that she did know. Denny had used his "orphan" status to garner the sympathy of many people. "My dad wasn't much of a man. Left when I was around Samantha's age, so there was never any reason for us to know each other as cousins. And, to be honest, he always seemed creepy to me."

She couldn't help it, Meredith laughed. Denny had been many things, the least of which was creepy. "I'll have to add that to my list of reasons why I shouldn't have been dumb enough to marry him."

A sweet, bell like giggle drew Addison's attention away from the wide eyed little girl in front of her. No more than ten feet away sat her husband; and with him was Meredith Grey. The pair both wore easy going smiles, and whatever they were talking about had them both laughing. A stab of jealousy twisted in her gut. Derek wouldn't cheat, and she couldn't see Meredith ruining what little reputation she had left, not with a little girl to about.

There was a history there, though. A history that dated back to a drunken night in Dallas, where Derek had almost cheated. It had almost killed her when he had confessed that particular sin to her. They had survived it, if one could call their quiet, sterile existence together surviving.

Unable to resist knowing what the pair found so humorous, she took Samantha's hand and walked back to them. "Having a good time?" The smile slid from Derek's face. Her heart plummeted. Meredith could make him laugh, but the sight of her made him frown. She let Samantha's hand loose and turned on the ball of her foot. She blinked rapidly as she hurried away.

"Sorry asshole," she muttered, smiling tensely when Izzie asked if she was okay. "I'm fine. Just tired. Tell Mark and Alex I'm sorry but I had to go." Except she couldn't. Derek had blocked her in. Great. She muttered a curse and stomped back to where he sat. "Move your car. Now."

"Addison, it isn't what it looked like," Meredith said, an almost panic quality tinting her voice. "We were talking about how Derek was Denny's cousin."

"You knew my daddy?" Samantha asked excitedly.

Addison held her tongue on. It would be so easy to just say 'he almost was your daddy,' she wouldn't though. She would never hurt an innocent child that way. Especially not now that she was about to have one of her own. "It doesn't really matter how it looks Meredith. He doesn't want me. Or my baby. So, I'm going to do what he wants. I'm going to leave. I just need him to move his car."

Derek let out a sigh, his face crinkling into a frown as he stood up. Silently he followed her around the house to where the cars were parked. "You're the one who made things this way," he said curtly. "Not me. I'm not the one who moved out."

"Oh. My. God!" Addison screamed, her blue eyes blazing. "You still don't get it do you?" She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I left because I was sick to death of living with a man who didn't love me! I was tired of feeling like I was some stupid obligation all because I let some boy screw me in the backseat of his mama's caddy ten years ago." She wrapped her arms around her waist, praying all this tension didn't hurt the baby. "I'm not that silly girl anymore, Derek. The one who thought you were Mr. Perfect. That girl died a long time ago. And, quite frankly, I'm glad. I am so glad that I figured this out now, before another ten years passed. God knows what sort of life this baby would have had. A father who doesn't give a fuck and is always gone. So not the life I want my child."

"Our child," Derek snapped, his scowl deepening.

"Oh, so now it's our child? The other day you were demanding to know who the father was. Make up your mind Derek. Is the baby your's or isn't it?" Addison taunted. She was so sick of playing his games. It was why she had left. She couldn't live life walking on a tight rope, always wondering where she stood and when she was going to fall.

"I thought we covered how stupid I was for saying that," Derek said lowly.

"Did we?" Addison narrowed her eyes. "I'm having a hard time remembering that conversation, Derek. Maybe you had it with your pretend wife." She shoved passed him and tried to yank her car door open. A strong arm reached out and slammed it shut. "What do you think you are doing?"

"We're not done talking."

"Yes, we are." Addison tried to reach for the door handle again. If he didn't move his car, she would move it for him. Who gave a crap if it dented up her car and ruined his front end? She didn't. She wanted to go home; home to Gran. "We're done talking. We're just plain old done Derek."

"No," he hissed. "I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that the last ten years didn't mean anything."

Sobs shook Addison's body as she buried her face in hands. She couldn't do this. Not anymore. It wasn't just her anymore, and he didn't get it, not really. "Please. Let me go. Just let me go." She wasn't just talking about him moving his car anymore, she was talking about so much more. She needed him to be the one to do it, to go file the papers. She had used what little strength she had to move out.

"I can't," Derek said hoarsely. "I love you. I love you to much to just let you go!"

The moment the raised voices penetrated through the windows of Alex's house, Mark shot out the door. He didn't know why he was so worried, the one person he had to worry about verbally attacking Meredith was with him. Only it wasn't Meredith being yelled at, it was Addison. Or rather Addison was the one doing the yelling.

"What happened?" He directed the question to Izzie, who was standing closet to the French doors that led into Alex's living room. The taller blonde lifted one bare shoulder and then let it drop. He looked toward Meredith. She hung her head, as though she was to blame for the argument raging in his mother's front yard. She couldn't be though; there had been problems between Addison and Derek long before now.

"I think, maybe, we should go home," Meredith whispered, drawing Samantha onto her lap. She hadn't wanted to come with him. He had made her, thinking that getting to know more people other than him would help. Instead it seemed as though it had done more harm than good.

"Ah, don't let them ruin things. They always fight," Alex said as he walked outside to stand next to Mark. His almost pretty face looked concerned, though, and his hazel eyes kept darting in the direction of the raised voices.

"Maybe planning this some other time wouldn't be a bad idea," Mark said, looking pointedly toward Samantha. The little girl had stuck her thumb in her mouth, her large eyes wide. She had reverted back to her silence, and it broke Mark's heart. He had gradually warmed to the kid, even though being around her hurt at times.

Alex followed his gaze, and then nodded. "Maybe you're right." He looked almost disappointed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "We can always plan it for next weekend or something. I think I'm off Sunday. Iz?"

Izzie blinked, as though she was shocked that they were consulting her about schedules. Mark wanted to laugh. They said they were just friends who liked to fuck, but he seen more. The way they looked at each other, the small, considerate things his brother did for her, the way she lit up when he was around; they all spoke of stronger feelings than just fuck buddies. "I think I'm off next weekend."

"Good. That settles it. Next Sunday we try again." Alex grinned. "Maybe just the four of us and the kid? Maybe leave out the grumpy twosome up front?"

He was trying to make light of a situation they all knew was serious. It was Alex's way of coping when things got rough. He joked around. Mark understood and respected that. "Maybe," he agreed, proud of the fact that his brother had managed to put aside his animosity toward Meredith. "You two ready?" He looked toward Meredith and Samantha. Both nodded. "I'll call you later," Mark said. Alex nodded.

A tiny hand tugged on his pants leg. He looked down. Samantha smiled tentatively at him, and then held out her hand. Hesitantly, he took it. It amazed him how right that miniature hand felt in his large one. It also reminded him of how much he missed his little girl.

Izzie toyed with the hem of her camisole, shifting from one foot to the other. The shouting out front had ended and the last crunch of gravel was fading. It was just the two of them. Really, she should leave as well. He hadn't asked for anything other than dinner, and that was clearly a bust.

"I think I'll just," she motioned toward the front of the house.

"You're not going to stay?" Alex asked. She lifted her shoulders, not sure how to respond. She wasn't particularly in the mood, not after listening to Addison and Derek's heated exchange. "I figured you would."

"I'm not really, you know, up to it." Izzie tried to smile, but the yelling had gotten to her. It had brought back the memory of Hank screaming in her face over something minor. "And, I figured you might want to go check on your brother or something."

"Derek's a big boy. Besides, whatever Addie throws at him, he has it coming. Fucked up royally this time," Alex shook his head. "And, just because you're not in the mood doesn't mean you can't stay Iz. It's not like we're just fuck buddies or something."

The space between Izzie's eyes furrows. "I thought…I mean, isn't that what-" He cut her off by tugging her close. She expected a kiss, something to entice her into more. It never came. Instead he just held her close, fitting her body to his.

"Maybe we're more," he said quietly, pressing his cheek against her's. "Maybe we're more and we should figure it out. That is, if you want to."

"I can do that," Izzie said, a small smile gracing her full lips. She closed her eyes, settling in closer to him. Nothing had ever felt so right, or so safe as his arms.

The ride back to Lexie's house was a quiet one. Not even Samantha had anything to say. Only Mark broke the silence when he asked if she was alright. Meredith nodded. She actually was. Oddly enough, Derek had helped. He had freed her of the title adulterous bitch, and made her understand, on some level, that goodness had nothing to do with blood. Samantha was a sweet girl, nothing like Denny, and she would do well to remember that.

"I'm fine. A little worried about Derek and Addison though," she admitted. She sent Samantha ahead of her into the house, needing to talk to Mark alone. "I need to tell you something."

"This about you and Derek? In Dallas?" Mark asked. She felt her mouth drop open in surprise. "I'm his brother, his best friend. We tell each other everything."

"Oh," Meredith squeaked out. "Well, that's good. I mean that you have someone. Everyone should have at least one someone." She was rambling again. Crap. She couldn't seem to help doing it when he was around. It was because he was so big, so big and so…so male.

"True," Mark chuckled. An odd look crossed his face. His hand lifted, the fingers gently touching her cheek. "Even you have someone."

"I do?" she asked in a whisper, her eyes fixated on his face. He nodded. "Who?"

"Me," he said just before his mouth covered her's.


End file.
